


Picked Apart and Come Undone

by vivapinatawiki



Series: Picked Apart and Come Undone [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Animal Death, Boys Kissing, Canon-Typical Violence, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Violence, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-10-19 08:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivapinatawiki/pseuds/vivapinatawiki
Summary: Sniper won't embrace the fact that he enjoys his work in a less than professional manner. Medic, who loves his job, wants that to change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title might be subject to change, just a heads up! 
> 
> This was originally based on a very short drabble that I wrote five years ago! After stumbling upon it again, I found that although I was iffy about the original, there were ideas here that I felt could be explored in better detail, and elaborated on.  
And by elaborated on, I mean, this fic completely took the wheel and became so much more in depth than I initially intended. Wow. Just wow. 
> 
> So, here it is! Let’s see if five years of writing experience has helped me in any way. A thing to note; I am not a medical professional, and finding out the exact information I’d need to see whether the injuries I describe in this first chapter would make sense or not was surprisingly difficult. But, I’m just gonna wing it the best I can, not like the stuff in this world’s lore makes any sense most of the time. 
> 
> Also, I’m not a native German speaker, either! Feel free to correct me if I’ve made any glaring errors.

_You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve_ _  
And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground_

_Dig them up; let's finish what we've started_ _  
Dig them up, so nothing's left untouched_

_Flaws (Bastile)_

* * *

_Dying slowly and painfully was still dying, even with the knowledge that you’d be back on the battlefield in less than thirty seconds._

Most of the injuries the RED Sniper had suffered were often so minor that they were easily fixed by med-kits within walking distance. On the flip side, backstabs or headshots, or heaven forbid a missile shot directly his way usually sent him on a trip through respawn, with no ailments or complaints to speak of (except for psychological scarring, maybe). Sniper seldom often saw the team’s doctor.

_Today hadn’t been like that._

After he drew the ire of the BLU Demoman with repeated headshots (he’d been making it far too easy today, he’d been completely off his game, but when you were drunk on the job that_ was to be expected_) Sniper had been victim to an ambush that he’d not seen coming. The Scotsman had allowed his wounded pride to get the better of him, quickly heading up behind enemy lines the long way round and making short work of demolishing his little set up. Sniper had paid a heavy price for underestimating the man, but he’d made it out alive, somehow. The Demo had neglected to check whether he’d actually completely wiped out his target, or perhaps that had been his plan all along; incapacitate him, rather than make him go through respawn fully healed. After all, you couldn’t snipe foes when you were unable to move.

The barrels that had accompanied Sniper in his nest weren’t filled with gasoline (thank god), but the force of the explosion had shattered them, pieces lodging themselves into the Sniper’s back and shoulders as he’d braced himself for impact. At first, the fall had knocked the wind out of him, a blow to the head from the wall that he’d been launched into sending him to his knees. Then, whilst trying to stave off a concussion, he realized every breath he took was accompanied by pain and a wet gurgling noise deep in his throat. He was overcome by dizziness so intense he couldn’t stand. Blood soaked into his shirt, and the final cherry on top was the sight of a large piece of metal sticking out through his torso, impaling him from behind. A punctured lung was probably the cause of his inability to breathe, or call for help, for that matter.

Sniper knew that respawn would inevitably have him alive and kicking again, but that didn’t stop the primal fear that took a hold of him as the minutes ticked by, the nausea, and the tremors. He felt helpless, pathetic and stupid for not seeing that coming. Sniper sat, and waited, _waited_ for death, allowing grunts and whimpers of pain to escape his lips as he was sure no one was watching.

_This was going to be a long, agonizing wait_.

_As he blinked, sluggishly, the inevitable sequence of images one faced in their last moments overcame him. Sniper was brought back to a long forgotten memory from childhood. _

_He’d been ten, and he had discovered a hopping mouse curled up in a small hole dug into the sand. It twitched, barely alive but breathing. Seems it had almost been some larger predator’s dinner, but got away at the last second through some miracle. Mick debated nursing the poor thing back to health, but he knew the little fella wouldn’t make it. A nasty bite had torn open the mouse’s stomach, and its tiny organs were spilling out, fur sticky and slick with blood and bile._

_A few strikes to the head with a rock and the mouse was quickly out of its misery. _

_Mick had buried it. To give it a respectful send off, or as to not be caught in the act, a part of him didn’t know, looking back. He wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing. They said blokes who abuse animals as children turn into psychos, didn’t they? He’d not been the one to put it in that state, and it was better to make it quick and painless than watch it suffer. _

_Right now, he was feeling like that mouse, and wished that someone had been there to extend that offer to him._

And that’s when he heard the Medic, faintly, ears ringing as his vision blackened.

_“Why didn’t you call for help—oh, that’s why. Alright, well, we’d best get you into the med-bay, quickly, quickly! Heavy, assist me, won’t you?”_

* * *

The next thing he remembered was waking up, shirtless, sticky, cold. The glow of the Medigun blinded him slightly, eyes blurred due to the migraine that persisted. The white walls of the medbay stung his eyes, but he attempted to sit up, aided in part by the fact he could push against the back of the seat he’d been slumped over.

Why was he here? Why hadn’t he woken up in respawn? Even though the pain was subsiding slightly, why did it still take so much effort to breathe?

“Oh, you’re conscious again! Don’t move, you still have a large piece of metal lodged in your back.”

Sniper had many questions, but could only manage a gurgle, which rattled in his fluid filled lungs and nearly choked him.

“Try not to breathe too deeply… It’s been such a long time since I’ve had to perform trauma surgery… but, with respawn off now that the working day is over, we’ll have to do things the old fashioned way!” His excited tone did nothing to ease Sniper’s nerves. “It’s a miracle this didn’t sever your spinal cord, you would have been dead in seconds otherwise!”

That answered the most pressing of Sniper’s questions; had the round really ended that quickly after his little accident? Or had he been out of it for so long that hours had gone by without his notice? No, the latter couldn’t have been correct, could it? Medic would have put him out of his misery. He wasn’t above doing that when he deemed the injuries easier to fix with a simple reset through death. _Then again, his unpredictable and frankly sadistic nature gave Sniper pause._ _Perhaps he was using this as an excuse to do things “the old fashioned way” for the fun of it?_

“Alright, I’m going to use this tool to remove it.” From his peripheral, Sniper saw what looked like a giant pair of forceps. “The pain shouldn’t be too intense; I’ve got the medi-gun on a low enough setting to keep you doped up and… well, alive, but. Can’t have it on full charge with a foreign object lodged so deeply into your vital organs! Who knows what might happen?”

That answered question number two; why he hadn’t simply blasted him with the gun and called it a day. Turns out there were limitations to his medical magic, then.

“You might feel a slight pinch.” Medic placed a foot on a nearby wall, clamped the forceps on to the shard tucked deep into his back and _pulled_. And Sniper felt it, oh boy, did he. It was hooked on something deep inside him, because he was pulled along with it and almost toppled out of his seat. “Stubborn little thing. Brace yourself again, Sniper, I think it may be caught between two of your ribs.”

His hands dug into chair’s back, and he steadied his legs. Sweat beading on his forehead, it was now he became aware that his aviators had been removed, since his vision wasn’t fogging up. Sniper’s muscles began to spasm, his body reacting by telling everything in him to breathe through the pain but that only made things worse. He felt like he might be sick, gritting his teeth hard enough that they could crack. Then, with a sickening squelch and a loud grunt of exertion from the team’s doctor, the piece of shattered metal was pulled free, and Sniper wanted to scream. Instead, all the blood that had pooled in his lungs began to escape out in a coughing fit, through his mouth and out of the wound down his body that had been left behind. He gagged, and choked, blood escaping his mouth in thick globs that stained his slacks and chest.

“There we go!” Medic cheered, casually tossing the foreign object aside and approaching him with a cloth so he could cough into that instead. “Breathe slowly, mein Freund, that’s it.” Medic turned a dial on the medi-gun and Sniper felt the wound close up, the burning in his throat and chest subsiding. Finally, the tremors that wracked his body ceased, along with the painful headache. He almost felt human again.

“Bloody hell.” He croaked.

“Bloody is definitely the word for it. What on earth were you up to out there? I assumed something exploded, judging by the scorch marks and broken barrels.”

“Demo got the jump on me.” Sniper admitted, grumpily. “Arsehole left me for dead rather than finishin’ the job outright.”

“How did you miss that? Wouldn’t you have seen him through your scope?”

Sniper’s jaw tightened, irritated at his teasing. “Might be news to you, doc, but I ain’t able to see through walls.”

“I could change that! A little eye surgery-!”

“No.” He wasn’t having this conversation with him again. 

The doctor shrugged. “Suit yourself. Now, we must attend to the rest of the shrapnel lodged in your back.”

Sniper blinked, turning his head to attempt to see what he was talking about.

“You look like _ein_ _Stachelswein _from where I am stood!” At Sniper’s confused expression, he elaborated. “You know, one of those cute little things with the long spines!”

“A hedgehog? No, porcupine.”

“That’s the very fellow!” He replied, nodding. “So, we’re probably going to be here for a while whilst I get the worst of it out."

Down the dial went again, completely this time, and Sniper realized what he meant once it did. A raw, sore feeling in his muscles and skin returned, and he winced. “Doc, can’t you keep it on me for—GHAH!” A sudden pain clenched at a section in his shoulder blade, and he was unable to keep the yelp from escaping his lips.

“Sorry!” Medic chimed, not sounding sorry at all as another piece of removed shrapnel clattered into a metal bowl on a nearby surface. “I cannot. There is only so much allotted power it has during our off hours. It’s for emergencies only.”

The marksman bit the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to insist this _was an emergency, _and decided to simply deal with it. It got more difficult with every extraction, even though Sniper was prepared for it this time. He could feel tendons and skin being torn with each tug, and he wondered if this was worse than the initial removal than the one in his lungs had been. At least he’d been doped up then. He began muttering, gripping his fists, cursing out the Demoman who’d done this to him and trying his best to drown out the patronizing shushes and whispers from their team’s doctor.

Medic leant forward, and murmured in his ear. _“_Oh, Mick, don’t be a baby, be a _man_-”.

Coupled with the constant thrum of white hot pain from skin pierced by shattered metal, something in him briefly snapped at those words; he knew the doc hadn’t meant to touch a nerve quite as much as he had, but venting his frustrations of the day’s events was impossible to resist. “Why don’t you pull y’bloody head in, you quack?! You wanna be first on me list before Demo gets his turn?!”

He was swiftly placated with an injection, a puff of air being heard as whatever Medic punctured him with was emptied into his veins. Despite his indignant yelp, the doctor surveyed him with an unimpressed stare over his spectacles, smile gone. “Calm down, schweinhund. I was just about to administer a painkiller, but I could soon make that a sedative.” The playful, jovial air he was used to had been replaced with something that made him feel like he was a child again, being scolded by his school’s nurse. That cow had been a stern woman, often bordering on cruel, good at her job but completely unmoved by boyish tears. He’d seen her a lot in childhood, because he’d been a victim of bullying on a nearly daily basis.

_“Put an ice-pack on it and go back to class. Real men don’t cry, Mundy.”_

The silence after that was heavy and awkward, save for Sniper’s ragged breathing, teeth clenched as he attempted to calm his nerves. To not let tears fill his eyes. 

_What it was that really did it, what made him lose his temper may have had something… well, _everything_ to do with the fact he never took kindly to jabs at his masculinity. As expected; with the environment he’d grown up in, being the only skinny, waifish young boy in Australia made him a black sheep, an outlier, an embarrassment… __He didn’t need to be reminded of that as often as he was. Looking in the mirror for more than five minutes to groom features he’d never liked anyway was not only a chore, but borderline masochistic. _

A few minutes later, once the painkillers had done their job and his mind was clear of the fog clouding his judgement, he exhaled deeply, turning back to The Medic, tone and expression softening.

“Sorry.” He murmured, almost sheepishly.

“Oh, please.” Medic flapped a hand, seeming to perk up slightly. “My usual patients consist of Scout and Soldier, that little outburst of yours hardly compares to some of the threats that have been thrown my way.”

“I mean… well.” He still didn’t feel as though he’d deserved it. After all, he’d have been dead permanently if the good doctor hadn’t found him there.

“Besides, I’m not worried. You are a sniper, you’d have to be in the next building over to do anything to—_I was joking!_” Medic let out an exasperated sigh when he saw the death glare being thrown his way. “You take my jabs far too seriously. Let the medicine do its job, and relax.”

Sniper rested his chin on the back of the seat, trying to quash the tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with the earlier trauma and everything to do with being an insecure old man who’d been mocked for throwing a punch like a girl since childhood. He hated that he was still so… _sensitive_ about it. And it was why, despite remaining silent being preferable, he felt the need to defend himself. “My skillset is a little more than just… shootin’ people from fifty miles away, mate… And throwing piss.” _Couldn’t forget that_. “Sniping’s just my specialty. But when you’re in my line of work, you have to know how to walk into a room and make a quick plan of what you’re gonna use to take a man out, should you have to. Quickly, and-“ He grunted, another rough pluck of shrapnel from his skin cutting him off momentarily. “Efficiently.” He kept his back straight, staring ahead and resting his chin on his arms, trying not to jump too violently with each pluck of the tweezers. “You need to have a plan to kill _everyone_ you meet. You don’t know who your next target’s gonna be.”

Without a face to engage with, Medic kept his eyes on his work. Amongst the broken bits of metal that peppered the tanned skin, he noted the hair, the moles, as well as the scars that hadn’t been washed out by respawn due to having acquired them off site or before his contract had even began. His skin was warm, warm enough that Medic could feel it radiating off of him through the rubber gloves he wore._You didn’t get men that looked like Sniper back home. Not often. The brief glimpses he would get of handsome Italians visiting Germany across the border were the only example he could think of, and his opportunity to spend time with them was brief. Their affectionate natures and tendency to give kisses on the cheeks out like candy had sparked many feelings in Medic that he had quashed down and buried for years after. _

“… I can tell that you’re not too pleased about the Demoman’s actions this afternoon.” Medic chuckled airily, trying to ease the tension a bit, as well as quell the heat in his face.

“Mm. That obvious?” He grinned, and The Medic saw that the other’s canines were pointed, vampiric almost. Sniper didn’t grin often; because _that’s something he would have noticed_. “A quick ‘n painless death might be too kind.”

The Medic cocked his head to one side, and batted his eyelids, cheek in one hand. “And what is your plan for him, then, for daring to cross you like he did today?” There was work to be done but there was just something urging Medic to keep this man_ talking._

“Er… well, maybe it’s not worth the effort to go too far, doc. I’ll just keep doing what I always do, that seemed to piss him off well enough.”

“A bullet through the skull? That’s it? That’s _all_?” _Go into a bit more detail than that!_

Sniper stared over his shoulder at him for a brief few moments, but then gave a half-hearted shrug. “Thought that answer’d be obvious; that’s sort of what I do.”

“But isn’t that rather predictable?” Medic asked, huffily, a bit put out by the anti-climax. There weren’t too many pieces of metal left to remove now, The Medic having saved the smaller ones for last.

“Predictable?” He trailed off, noting Medic’s expression, how disinterested he was now compared to how enraptured he’d seemed a moment ago… and something about that fact made Sniper a bit crestfallen. “Erm… did I say something wrong?”

Medic clicked his tongue, getting up to find disinfectant, and the tools to stitch up the remaining lacerations in his patient's skin. “How some people can just let things go so easily is something I shall never understand! If that man, or anyone, were to put me through what you went through today, I would want them to experience the pain tenfold! A hundred fold! Not just a simple trip to respawn like nothing ever happened!”

“Mm... guess planning out some grizzly revenge isn’t my style.” Then, a little bit more quietly. "_I'm not some sadist_."

Something about the incredulous tone Sniper had irritated him. “Oh! Listen to you, acting like you are above those who are, above ME, just because you can detach yourself so readily from it.”

“I’m a professional-!”

“And I lost my medical licence, and yet, here the both of us are. We're on the same team, with seven other lunatics, and if you think you aren’t a sadist, you are _kidding_ yourself.” Pouring alcohol on to cotton, he quickly applied it to Mick’s skin before he could respond, causing the other to hiss like he’d been scalded.

“Well, _if_ I am, I’m definitely not as much of one as—_ah!_—you are.” Medic had nothing to say to that, but Sniper noticed the quirk of his lips, and the twinkle in his eye, and that was all the affirmation he needed.

“The part about “walking into a room, making a quick plan of how to take a man out”, I was hoping you’d elaborate on that more.”

“Not if I have the choice. I get the job done in the most convenient way, not the most…” He paused. “_Satisfyin’ _one.”

The word choice made Medic chuckle, darkly. “There is no emotional connection to a single shot to the head. They do not even know what has hit them! They can't regret anything if their brain is all over the ground!” Medic was still looking disapprovingly over at the man who sat opposite him. “There was me thinking you’d spice things up a bit for the people who really _crossed_ you… that “plan” you have for everyone is simply just the same, isn’t it? How boring.”

“No. Not necessarily.” He didn’t understand what it was that was making him want to prove himself to Medic.

Medic was silent for a good while, deftly stitching up the wounds, making quick work of it. An admirable skill, Sniper had to admit, when you were wearing bulky rubber gloves like that. He pondered, and pondered, each puncture to the man's tanned skin making him consider. “Alright." Medic bit down on the thread, plucking the excess strands away, and began on another one. "Say perhaps… _I_ was trying to kill you.” His lip quirked as he saw Sniper’s head lift up, registering what he'd just said. “What would you do?”

Sniper brows folded together in confusion and he turned around in his chair to face him. “I’d call for help; someone would hear me and put a stop to it."

“Alright, say we were the only two people in this entire building, then what?”

“We’re never alone in this building, though. They got cameras everywhere, I’m sure yer contract’d be up in no time if you killed a teammate.”

Medic let out a frustrated sigh; he clearly didn’t understand these were _hypotheticals_. Chances to talk about silly fantasies. “The power is out! Cameras are off! There is a thunderstorm going on, lightning has struck our power generator meaning you cannot respawn! I have a hand to your throat and with each passing second, you are losing oxygen!” He was now leant over Sniper, who backed up with an alarmed expression as Medic pressed curled fingers around his neck, not squeezing in the slightest but glaring at him with an intensity that shook him to the core. “How cruel of him, your team's doctor, to patch you up, lull you into a false sense of security, only to quickly turn the tables and try and take your life! _What would you do then?_”

Sniper’s eyes darted to the tray of medical tools that lay feet away from them, instinctively, even though he was sure he wasn’t in any immediate danger. Medic wouldn’t go that far, right? He knew his limits... didn’t he?

“Yes?” Medic turned to where his gaze fell. “Yes! Look, there are so many weapons at your disposal! A scalpel to the jugular vein, that would make short work of me, wouldn’t it?”

Sniper couldn’t quite grasp the emotion he was feeling, being at such close proximity to The Medic as he excitedly, _breathlessly_ went into grim detail about how he’d want the marksman to kill him.

“That’s far too messy for my liking, mate.” He said, stonily.

“Then what? What would you do?”

“The hell brought this on?” He asked, not taking his eyes off the German’s baby blues.

“What? I think it’s fun to discuss! Add some flare to those plans of yours. Look, an array of bone saws on the wall up there.” He motioned to them theatrically. “Say you were REALLY angry with me, you could remove my limbs, regrow them with the med-gun, put me through that all over again on loop until you’re satisfied!” His face was flushed with excitement. Sniper’s mouth was dry. “There are so MANY possibilities!”

His nausea was back… no, the twisting feeling in his stomach wasn’t nausea. Apprehension, maybe. Anticipation? _Excitement?_ What Medic was suggesting didn’t appeal to him in the slightest, it was far too grizzly for him to even want to dwell on... but how eagerly the mad doctor was rattling off those examples _did_. The look in his eyes, not exactly unhinged but giddy. His own face grew hot, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He became incredibly aware of the sound of the other man’s breaths, the grin that split across his face, the scent of blood, antiseptic and something else, a clinical substance that kept these walls clean, mopped up the mess left behind by the Medic's insane experiments. Sniper had learnt from past experience that this look wasn't intended to be sinister necessarily, but could never tell between a genuine smile or the look of a man who wanted to hurt him and wouldn’t regret a second of it. 

“Come on, I can see that fire in your eyes, Mick, I know that look. A storm, brewing behind that façade of professionalism you like to put on.” The Medic reached in, and cupped his cheek. “It’s alright, you can tell me _all_ about it. _I know how it is_. Talking about how you want to make _that man pay_, wouldn't that be fun?”

When cornered, fight or flight would kick in. In this situation, fighting wasn’t an option Sniper wanted to present to his teammate, the man who’d saved his life less than thirty minutes ago. He’d harness the skillset of the sniper, and run, run until he was a far enough distance away that he could observe from afar and work out his next steps.

“_Gib’s mir_…” Medic whispered, breathily. “Tell me all about it, Mick, _bitte_.”

But he didn’t. He sat, and wouldn’t allow this man to intimidate him. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing his darker, untamed side. Wouldn’t let the mad doctor get under his skin, rile him up for whatever fun he had planned. “If I didn’t know better, I swear you’d set me up to trap me here so you could steal me organs or something.”

“I could be. If you wanted me to be.” A gloved finger traced its way down the marksman’s chest. “It wouldn’t be the first time; I have your heart in a jar, Sniper, when I replaced it so it could handle the ubercharge. What would you do to stop me, hm?”

Sniper shuddered, and took The Medic by the wrist. The older man’s eyebrows shot up, but he watched as Sniper simply got to his feet, walked to where his (salvageable) clothes were, and picked them up. Once the aviators were on, he looked down at him. “I think we’re done here, mate.” A muscle tensed in his jaw, trying to work out what his next words should be. “… Thanks for patchin’ me up.”

Medic sighed, wistfully as the other man made his way to the door. _Looks like he’d simply scared him away_. That wouldn’t have been the first time; some people just didn’t_… get_ him, but he’d really thought maybe this man would be an exception for once. How he acted now was exactly how Medic had been years before he'd embraced the worst, most demented parts of himself. “Well, you know where I am if you want me, Sniper.”

* * *

Later, as Sniper sat in his van, stripped down to his boxers on the mattress that was housed inside it, he thought at length of that extremely surreal exchange he and The Medic had. A shower to get the worst of the blood off, dinner and some time spent reading hadn’t done anything to distract him from it. His thoughts were filled with the excitement and interest the doctor had shown in him talking about his work, and he didn’t know what to make of it. He’d never had anyone react that way before. It was always negative, or positive in the sense of admiration of getting a job done quickly and swept under the rug. No one had ever, _ever _encouraged the potential sadistic nature that being a marksman bred into you. In fact, the idea that Sniper would suppress that _offended _him.

It occurred to him that Medic was passionate about what he did; even if nothing about the experiments he performed was ethical, or approved under any oath he’d taken when he’d first became a doctor, there was joy to be found in every single bit of work he did. In fact, every single mercenary on this team loved what they did; Engineer talked endlessly about his new inventions, upgrades he’d make, schematics he’d work on, and although Sniper could only understand the bare minimum of the things he would talk about, there was passion there. Soldier, Demo and Pyro were all their own brands of insane, giddy as school girls whenever the battlefield was coated in blood and charred corpses. Scout would brag about bashing skulls and jaws in, and even the more quiet and reserved members of the team like Heavy and Spy would let that facade completely fade more often than not, in favor of unabashed excitement. 

Droplets of rain began to fall, coating the dirt outside with dark spots, tapping on the tin roof of his van, the sky darkening with thick clouds. A storm.

_A storm, brewing behind that façade of professionalism you like to put on._ _It’s alright, you can tell me all about it. I know how it is._

Sniper swallowed thickly, face and neck heating up as he thought back to how The Medic had cupped his cheek and gazed at him, encouraging him. Encouraging him to have fun… Suddenly, in perfect tandem with a roar of thunder, Sniper sat up in bed, eyes wide, mouth agape as he came to a startling realization. The tone, the breathlessness, the touching, the innuendo. The encouragements.

“Oh my god.” He mumbled, embarrassed that for the keen eye he had, he’d missed what was in front of him.

Medic had been **flirting with him.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Medic couldn’t put an exact date on when his interest in Sniper had started, but if he had to recall a memory in particular, it had been the time he’d taken refuge in a hiding spot with him after an ambush. Before Medic could warn the rest of the REDs that running into what seemed like a completely empty check point was a foolish decision, out the BLU team had come, an uber'd Medic and Heavy duo wiping the floor with the small group of men he’d been stood with. With his only choice being to bolt, he was out of there, and it seemed the BLUs had deemed it more worthy of their time to capture the objective rather than chase after stragglers._

_Well, except for The Scout, who could very easily catch up to him._

_“Oho, no, pal, you ain’t goin’ nowhere!” He jeered, aiming a few shots, most which missed as he ran around in an unpredictable pattern trying to shake the younger man off. One or two managed to hit him squarely in the shoulder, causing him to accidentally drop his weapon as his arm seized with pain. Before he could pick it back up, his pursuer took a running leap, pulled out a bat, and took a swift swing at his head that knocked him off his feet. _

_"_Fick dich_." Medic hissed through gritted teeth. _

_Scout loomed over him, mouth stretching into a buck toothed grin as he took a moment to brag. “Gotcha now, doc. Hope you like the taste of teeth, coz I’m going to—**AGHH**!” _

_The deafening sound of a rifle going off, along with the accompanying scream left The Medic staring at the scene in front of him with his heart in his throat. He remained frozen in place for a brief few moments as he registered what just happened. Turning his head, he saw the familiar figure of the RED Sniper stood in the window, realizing that the marksman had saved him from a rather cruel fate indeed. _ _Wiping off the excess blood and brain matter the young Bostonian had coated him with, he realized there wasn’t time to dwell because the rest of the BLUs would be around to see what had caused the commotion. He scrambled to his feet, picked up his discarded syringe gun, and raced back into the base._

_“Sniper?” He called out once he was inside. _

_“You alright, mate?” Sniper replied from up a set of stairs. “Keep y’head down, they’re gonna be lookin' for where that shot came from.”_

_“Thank you for getting me out of that mess.” He said, approaching where Sniper was situated. _

_“I should be thankin’ that little ankle biter for standin’ still so long.” The Sniper chanced a peek, gazing through his scope. "Don't see the BLU Sniper anywhere?"_

_"Our Spy took care of him before we made our way to the checkpoint." _ _Medic kneeled next to him, and opened a medkit that Sniper had been keeping just a few feet away from the window. Another bang from the rifle almost made Medic drop the equipment he’d obtained from the assorted box . _ _Normally he was desensitized to such things, but that had been such a narrow escape that it had put him on edge. _

_“Just got their team’s medic too, that should rumble ‘em a bit.”_

_He said nothing, deeming it best to keep quiet and concentrate on patching himself up; he had an entire team to wait for, and he knew that it would take at least five or so minutes until respawn kicked them back into battle. _

_“Don’t think they’ve spotted me yet…” Sniper idly muttered, more to himself than his companion. “Hm. Even if they did, they’d be ‘ard pressed to come out of cover now.” _

_With a relieved sigh, the removed bullets clattered to the floor, and Medic pointed the nozzle at himself to assist with the healing. The ear splitting headache that bat had given him ebbed away. Once that was done, he kept the medi-gun trained on Sniper, to help keep him alive and charge the uber. _

_“Thanks.” He muttered, without looking his way. “Keep an eye out for the BLU Spy, would’ja? I have a feelin’ they’ll have sent him up here.”_

_“I’ll call out if I see anything suspicious.” Medic remained crouched, close enough that he could hear Sniper continuously whispering as he scanned the area outside. Long stretches of silence continued on, punctuated every now and again with soft murmurs from the man situated at the window. _

_“Flounderin’ bunch of idjits… turn into complete wusses now that y’nurse ain’t around to patch ya up, don’t you?”_

_Medic found himself focusing less on the door, and more on Sniper. The two of them seldom conversed, so this was a very new experience for him. _

_ “C’mon.” He crooned. “C’mon and peek y’head out. I dare you. Decorate the place with a nice bit’a your brains.” _ _He’d never realized that the Australian’s voice could go this... _deep_. He’d always really liked deep voices, it was one of the many reasons he sought out Heavy’s company so much. However, seeing Sniper in his element was a very different experience than watching Heavy hard at work. Where Heavy would yell and sing and cheer with unabashed and infectious glee, the Sniper would go deathly quiet, drop his voice to a growl, speaking in a dangerous sort of whisper that was in equal parts chilling, but relaxing, too. How a voice could both scare and soothe in equal tandem was something to behold indeed. _

_Suddenly, Sniper dropped his scope, and caught Medic’s eye. “Did’ja hear that just then?”_

_"Hmm?" Medic responded with a lazy sort of smile._

_“Footsteps.” _

_Medic listened, and realized that he’d dropped the ball in acting as look out. Springing into action, Medic got to his feet, glaring at the door, at the sound of the intruder who'd dared to interrupt them._

_“Is safe now, Doktor! You can come down!”_

_The familiar boom of Heavy’s voice made Medic relax. "Looks like they're back already!" He took a step forward, but was stopped by an outstretched arm that Sniper cut in front of him. _

_“How’d ‘e know you were up here?” That was an excellent point. No one else could have known, except Sniper. _

_“MEDIC?” _

_With a silent nod, Medic powered up the medi-gun, and walked out cautiously behind his teammate. Heavy wasn’t immediately in view. It was only once the pair of them turned that they saw he was directly parallel with the stairs, in a position where he would have been behind them should they have taken the nearby doorway. Where their backs would have been completely open to an attack. _

_“Come along, now, doktor. We wait for rest of team!” He said, warmly, motioning for Medic to follow as he stepped forward to catch up to them. His face fell, and he stopped in his tracks once he realized that directed at his forehead was the red glow of the rifle’s crosshair. _

_“Nice try, Spook.” Immediately, The Heavy faded from sight. Sniper fired a shot, but a second too late, the bullet flying into the opposite wall without so much as a splatter of blood. Cursing, Sniper tossed his rifle aside, pulling his kukri out from its holster and snarling. “You’re not gettin’ away that bloody easy!” The room was small enough that a few blind swings could make contact with someone attempting to make their way past him, and to his luck, Sniper felt the edge of his blade connect with flesh, an accompanied hiss of pain heard along with footsteps bolting to the door. _

_“C’mon, doctor, follow me.” Sniper instructed, darting through the doorway he was sure the Spy had escaped through. The droplets of blood from the wound he’d given the man helped as a trail of sorts, and the two of them discussed in whispers what to look out for as they kept on searching. The base was quiet, the only thing to be heard the roar of wind travelling through cracks in the roof and open windows. _

_Medic stayed behind Sniper, an excited smile growing on his face at the thrill of the chase. _ _Suddenly, he stopped, so suddenly that Medic barely avoided bumping into him. _

_Letting out a growl as he scanned the immediate area for his prey. “Where are you …?” _

_Over the sound of his laboured breathing, Medic heard the familiar hiss of a cloaking watch not too far away from where they now stood. “There, there!” Without thinking, he took Sniper by the hand, a gleeful giggle escaping his lips as he made a beeline for the room he’d heard the noise. "We have you now, Spy!" It probably wasn't wise to call out to their prey like this, but it was impossible to resist taunting the BLU Spy. "Your death will be slow and excruciating!" _

_“Wait-!” Sniper dug his heels in so that he brought the other man to a stop. “Don’t jus’ bolt in there.”_

_“But he’ll get away if we don’t hurry!” _

_“We’ll be at a disadvantage. 'e could have a pistol aimed at our ‘eads, or backstab us before we can turn around quick enough.”_

_“That adds to the fun! Besides, he’s injured, that should throw him off his game a bit!" _

_Sniper snatched his hand back. “This _ain’t_ a bloody game, doc. You’re the one he’s after, and it won’t be long til’ the BLU team has backup. Their Medic will be back before you are, an' they'll force their way into the base before y'have a chance to get back out there."_

_Medic huffed. He knew he was right, that was the logical thing to do. Stay safe, even if it meant letting Spy get away. The furrowed brow and disapproving stare Sniper gave him didn’t go unnoticed, and the doctor's excited glee quickly turned into frustration. “Fine, I get your point! ... It’s just been so long since I have been able to enjoy myself like this. It’s nice to take part in the bloodshed once in a while rather than simply healing the men who do.” _

_“Look, mate-“_

_There was the sound of an explosion from deep inside the RED base. They gave each other a surprised stare. Had BLU gotten past their defences already? _

_“Bon Voyage, crouton! You're not capping that point on MY watch.” Soldier could be heard shouting from down the hall. "Once again, good old fashioned American brute force beats sneaky French tactics!"_

_To their relief, the people racing down the hall were the REDs fresh out of spawn, clearly ready to rip the heads off the ones who’d defeated them in such a humiliating fashion._

_"That was a total fluke." Scout piped up, not sounding impressed by the older man's bravado. "You didn't know he was there."_

_"It was a tactical maneuver on my part, son! I always check whether a control point is truly empty or not! Otherwise those damn BLUs could get the jump on us!" _

_Medic's face twisted into a furious snarl. He could _strangle_ him. _

_He heard Sniper sigh, and then say in a very quiet deadpan."We could'a done with that foresight ten minutes ago, y'bloody idiot."_

_He couldn't stay mad. How _could_ he stay mad? Sniper had seen what had happened, and said exactly what he'd been thinking. It was a refreshing change than what he was used to, that was for sure. __Medic began hooting with laughter as Sniper caught his eye, not missing the amused smirk that he gave in return._

_"What are you ladies giggling about over here?! You know what, I don't care," Soldier stomped past, motioning for Medic to follow after him. _ _“C'mon, Cupcake, let’s show those BLU’s what’s what. I have a rocket with each of their names on it!”_

_“I suppose that’s my cue.” Medic found he was almost disappointed that they would have to part. "I... I will see you again post match, ja?" _

_Sniper gave a small nod in farewell. _

_As the rest of the team charged out the door as a group, Medic powered up the uber. The accompanying cacophony of excited shouts and pained screams was _delightful, _as always. Medic’s smile hadn’t faded the entire time, and although the satisfying sight of their enemies being torn through like paper was definitely one to behold, his thoughts remained on the moments he’d been alone with Mick. _

_He then decided he wouldn’t mind more moments like that in future._

* * *

Breakfast the morning after Sniper’s visit to the infirmary was an awkward affair; never in his life had he wanted to be able to retreat back to his van and eat in peace as much as he did today. _And he wished for that every day_. He knew The Medic was staring, intentionally trying to catch his eye, and it was making him jittery.

“Alright. Who had the last of the Cocoa Crispies?” Scout snapped, rattling the cardboard box with an accusing eye at every man present. “Those were MINE.”

“Surely no one else here would want to consume such garbage.” The Spy said, his only sustenance at this time being a cup of coffee that he tolerated for the caffeine more than he enjoyed.

“Well, obviously they WOULD, Spy, coz I had half a box left yesterday, and now it’s empty!”

“Ain’t it a lil early to be startin’ fights, fellas?” Engineer yawned, goggles situated on his forehead as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Just order some more for the next shipment, Scout. There’s frosted flakes in the back if you wanna make do.”

“They’re stale, though!”

“Must you do this every morning?” Spy grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

From the far end of the table came the sound of someone slurping milk and Scout looked up to see Soldier consuming spoonfuls of chocolate cereal from his helmet with a slightly guilty expression. “Those were yours?”

“I swear to GOD.” Scout was about to make a beeline for him, stopped in place by Heavy grabbing the back of his collar without so much as looking up from the newspaper he was reading.

_This is why Sniper liked being alone; people were too noisy, too high energy, it was suffocating. _Perhaps no one would notice or say anything if he were to slip away today. It wasn’t like he often contributed much at mealtime as it was, and most members of the team were distracted by the brawl that might be about to take place. Sniper left his plate, grabbing two slices of bacon and a piece of cold toast from the pile laid in front of them, and got to his feet, chancing one glance back.

Medic was watching him go, and gave him a sickly sweet smile that made the back of his neck tingle. He turned a corner, making short work of the scraps he'd snatched, deciding that getting some fresh air out in peace and quiet would be the best use of their briefly alloted free time.

_So, Medic had been flirting with him._

** _So what? _ **

What was Sniper meant to do about it? Was he meant to acknowledge it? Nip it in the bud before the doctor got the wrong idea? No... no, probably best to ignore it, rather than potentially gain his scorn; a Medic that was flirtatious was definitely better than one furious at his advances being rejected.

Sniper could try and deny that’s what his intentions were. His mind had gone back and forth on it for hours the night before. _Maybe he'd gotten the wrong end of the stick? Misread his odd quirks as having some deeper, more lewd undertones, because it seemed very unlikely that anyone would have that sort of interest in him._

He’d pegged Medic as the type who liked blokes for a while now. Sniper was an observer, and he picked up on these things. There was an attractive array of men to choose from, even Sniper could admit to that, although it wasn’t something he often thought about. Despite that, despite Medic being _a poofter, _the word used for men like him back home, it hadn't changed anything. Sniper hadn’t considered he’d ever be seen in that sort of light by him.

Now, it was all he could think about.

It wasn’t the fact he was a man attracted to other men that made him so uneasy, though. Sniper had never gotten on with the idea of people being so judgemental about who they went to bed with. No, it was the type of man Medic was, in personality. He could pick up on it, the air of a man on the brink of a complete psychotic breakdown if he'd hadn't already had one. Sniper had heard the rumours. The whispers. He'd seen the glazed look in those eyes when he'd witnessed the few times he'd been allowed to partake in murder, what the screams of pain did to him, how much it excited him to see people suffering. The maniacal laughter, the flash of white teeth. 

Sniper shuddered. 

Despite being on friendly terms with him, a nagging feeling in the back of his mind always made him cautious. Mick had a sort of gut instinct that discouraged him from ever allowing Medic to get to know more than he needed to. People like Medic prayed on other's vulnerabilities. 

Stick to medical examinations, that’s all he’d allow. He could know his blood type, risk for various diseases, even what his organs looked like when he was cut open. But what sort of person he was underneath? His history? His emotions? His deepest, darkest thoughts and feelings? That wasn’t to be divulged. Medic had a lot of nerve acting like he knew what sort of man he was, acting like he knew how he ticked _better than he himself did_. No one knew, no one took the time of day to properly know, and that was just fine with him.

* * *

The odd tension between the two didn’t go unnoticed for long.

Spy was the first, which was unsurprising. He dedicated his entire career to digging up secrets and archiving information that might prove useful. However, not one to gossip, he’d chalked it up to some under the table activities the two had been getting up to in their private lives, and left it at that. Not his concern.

Heavy could notice even the most subtle of changes in the Medic’s behaviour, due to spending the most time with him. The way he seemed distracted more than usual when working, looking around for someone who would seldom often join them on the front lines, to the point where he’d sometimes seem disinterested or even irritated when Heavy would remind him that they had work to focus on… it was concerning. Anyone shirking their workload would impact on the performance of the entire team. But it was impossible to approach Medic about anything when he was like this.

Then, Engineer picked up on it. It had been Medic’s staring at dinner, the purposeful glances in the showers, in the rec room, and Sniper’s awkward, uncomfortable lack of eye contact. Dell knew the guy was a loner, but lately, he’d been harder to get a hold of than ever. However, The Engineer had more important things to worry about, and decided that he wouldn't dwell on it too much. 

That was, until Scout and Pyro ended up chatting to each other in earshot of him about that very topic.

“_Whhd yuh thnns ghnh nn whh hmm_?”

“With the doc?”

“_Mmph_.”

“Dunno but the creepy looks he’s been givin’ Snipes all week’s startin to really freak me out, man.” Seemed Scout was more perceptive than the team gave him credit for. 

“You boys probably don’t wanna be discussin’ such things out in the open.” Engineer piped up, causing the two of them to straighten their backs, looking guilty. 

“Okay, but, you’ve noticed too, haven’tya?”

“Yeah.” Engineer gave a curt nod. “Didn’t wanna pry.” He was not the nosy sort. If Sniper wanted to divulge what was wrong, that was his prerogative.

“He’s been like that since… y’know, when Sniper came back from the infirmary after that shit with the BLU Demo.” He frowned, and then went pale. “Fuck, you don’t think he like… experimented on him or somethin’, do ya? That sick freak!” Scout's knuckles turned white as he clenched his bat, looking very much as though he was on the verge of using their doctor's skull to practice his swing. 

Pyro raised hands to his mask, covering an unseen mouth in shock. 

“Hold your horses, son, we don’t got really got proof of that.” For good measure, he patted the young man's shoulder to keep him calm. “I reckon the higher-ups would have one or two things to say if that were the case. It’s in our contracts that we can’t go causin’ any harm to our own team.” He nodded his head at him, pointedly. _That includes you, Scout._ “Sides, I think Sniper would’a taken matters into his own hands already."

Scout nodded, satisfied with that answer. “Yeah, that’s true. You’re probably right, yeah.”

“Anyway, you best be headin’ out there. Heard word from the others they managed to break through that sentry nest a few minutes ago.”

“Gotcha.” Scout gave a salute, pulling a can of Bonk! from his bag, cracking it open with a fizzing hiss as he darted out the door. Pyro soon followed, waving cheerfully at Engie in farewell.

Once the room was silent, there was a hiss of a cloaking watch, and Dell sprang into action, holding his shotgun up to the Spy that stood next to his dispenser.

The man held up his hands, signalling peaceful intent. “Do not be alarmed, I’m not the enemy spy.” For good measure, he attached a sapper to the dispenser in question, which gave a loud, aggressive beep, signalling the tech was incompatible with the equipment he’d just attached.

“You gotta stop sneaking up on me like that, hoss.” Engineer lowered his shotgun. “Why you all the way back here, anyhow?”

“Needed medical attention.”

“Uh, we have a guy for that outside, buddy.” Engineer teased with a light chuckle.

“Do we, now?”

“… Medic not around?”

“I haven’t seen him. Probably due to the fact that he’s been diverting his attention away from his job, and has spent more time in respawn than on the battlefield.”

Engie cocked his head to one side. “You serious?”

“I would not lie about such a thing.” Spy took a drag on his cigarette, flicking ash to the ground as he leant against the wall leisurely. “I take it you’ve also noticed the change in our Medic’s behaviour as of late? He’s been… as you say, “dropping the ball”?”

“Well, I ain’t out there, much, I’m usually set up on home turf to make sure no one gets through.” He rubbed the back of his neck, clicking his tongue as he pondered if he should tell Spy what he had observed in the past week. “I… have noticed he’s been payin’ Sniper a special sort of attention, though.”

The Spy gave a small hum in affirmation. “I was fine with letting … whatever the hell this is continue without saying a word about it, but since it is starting to impact on all of us, I feel an intervention is in order. He is distracted by the bushman’s presence to the point that he’s slipping up.”

“Well… if it’s as bad as yer sayin’ it is, it might be the right thing to do.” Engineer crouched down at the dispenser, tweaking a few odds and ends on the side of it to give him something to do as he spoke about this uncomfortable topic. “Otherwise I’m gonna have to make a start on building some new travel size dispensers for ya’ll to make do with.”

“You will speak with The Sniper then, yes?”

“Wait, me?” Engie snapped his head back up, a little alarmed. “Why me?”

“You have…” He spun his wrist in a vague motion, trying to describe exactly what it was that he had. “Erm… the ability to get people to talk about themselves.”

“Do I?” He gave a bemused sort of smirk.

“Oui, you are approachable, and a man such as he will not want to open up about such a thing to just anyone.”

Was Spy _complimenting_ him? “Flattered, but I’m thinkin’ you’re just not wantin’ to take that heavy task on yerself.”

Spy simply smirked back at him. “In part, but do you really think he trusts me that much? Does anyone here?”

“Y’know what, you make a good point there.” Engineer laughed. “Alrighty, then. I’ll try and see if Sniper’s willin’ to talk to me about it or not, ‘n get back to ya.” He paused, and then muttered. “Won’t be spillin’ the beans if it’s something he doesn’t want spoken about, just to be clear.”

“You think I will not find out in due time?”

_Another excellent point, actually_. “Darn nose’s gonna get skinned off if you keep pokin’ it into everyone’s affairs, Spook.”

He shrugged, a cloud of smoke rising off his fading figure as he pressed the button on his cloaking watch. “Well, let’s hope the good doctor can fix that up for me once he’s back to his old self.”

* * *

“Doktor will not talk if he does not want.” 

"Yeah, but I thought you of all people might have been able to get through to him, Heavy." Engineer admitted. "I'm right in thinkin' you two get along pretty well?"

“Even if we do, Medic will not take kindly to being told he is… doing bad at his job." Heavy's brow wrinkled as he recalled all the fits and tantrums he'd witnessed post battle when Medic had had enough of being blamed if they'd had a particularly bad losing streak. "Not take kindly to criticism." 

“I just don’t want this to turn into a bigger issue than it needs’ta.” Intervention from a higher power was best avoided; if they could sort out this matter amongst themselves, that’d make the process much smoother. “Maybe just let ‘im know that you’re, y’know… _there_ for him. As his friend. If something’s wrong, that is.”

“Da. Was going to. Am worried about Medic not just as colleague, but as his friend.” Misha had some suspicions as to what was going on, but that was merely an assumption, as well as not his business to divulge to anyone.

They parted, and Engineer made his way outside the base, to where he and the other mercenaries stored their vehicles, hoping to find Sniper in his van; to his surprise, there didn’t seem to be any sign of him. No lights were on, and any knocks and calls to try and grab his attention garnered no response. All the usual places; the rec room, the dining areas, the outside areas gated with barbed wire fences were completely devoid of the man he was searching for; he was hard to miss, usually, being so tall. “The hell he’d run off to?” Engineer grunted; he was proving to be more elusive than the damn Spy was tonight, this was ridiculous. Just as he was about to give up and wait until he’d next see the man at breakfast, the sight of light coming out of an outside storage shed made him do a double take. “Sniper?”

“Yeah?” Called back the familiar voice. There was a loud creak, and the door opened, light spilling out onto the dusty ground and revealing the shadowy silhouette of the man. “That you, truckie?”

Engineer walked towards him, shaking his head with both hands on his hips. “Been lookin’ everywhere for ya, Mick!” Slipping inside, Engineer viewed the little set up Sniper had made; amongst the tarp, the boxes of tools and weapons, a lantern, a small pile of books, as well as a sleeping bag were situated at his feet, the last item causing Engineer the slightest bit of concern as he took it in. “Uh. You been sleepin’ here?” _Had Medic’s weird behaviour caused him THAT much distress that he had gone into hiding?_

“Mm, only sometimes though.” He admitted, with a shrug. “I like sleepin’ outside every now 'n again. Bein’ indoors too much makes me go mental. When I get insomnia I come out ‘ere and I feel like I’m back home, camping in the outback. Sort of. Still too cold to completely feel like it’s home, but.”

Dell nodded, somewhat understanding where he was coming from. Engineer often found himself missing wide open ranges and the dry heat of Bee Cave.

“You said you were lookin’ for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” Dell took a seat on the floor opposite, thinking how it would be best to broach the topic at hand. “So. Uh. Listen. I guess you could say I’m uh… concerned about…” He tutted; shit,_ what was he even meant to say?_

“Is this about Medic?”

Slightly relieved he didn’t have to be the one to say it first, Dell nodded. “Yeah.”

Sniper exhaled, and leant back so that his skull lightly bumped against the wall he was pressed up against. “If you’re lookin’ for answers, I’m not gonna be able to give ‘em to ya. I don’t know why he’s suddenly started stickin’ to me like wool on barbed wire.”

“No idea whatsoever?” Engineer probed, tilting his head to the side.

Sniper, in spite of himself, went a little red in the face. “No.”

It didn’t go unnoticed. “Look, it might be able to help us solve the-“

“I don’t. know.” Sniper said, finitely, an irritated edge to his voice.

“Alright, alright, not meanin’ to push ya, sorry.” Engineer was sincere about that. “It’s just… his attention on you’s starting to affect his work performance. ‘N that throws a wrench in the works, coz without the doc around to keep us all alive ‘n well, we’re at a real disadvantage should those BLUs try and use that against us.”

“How’s that my fault?” Sniper grunted.

Engineer could sense there was something he wasn’t telling him, and that it was causing him to get as defensive as he was. “Not sayin’ it is!”

“Talk to _him_, then. He’s the one who’s buggerin’ off when he should be focusin’ on what he’s meant to be doin’.”

“True, true. I was just…” Engineer rubbed the back of his neck. “Wonderin’ if you were doin’ alright. Seems to be makin’ you mighty on edge.” And then, in a slightly quieter voice. “I don’t really blame you, though. This_ is_ Medic we’re talkin’ about.”

Sniper couldn’t remain grumpy with the Engineer; he seemed so genuinely worried for him, not at all accusatory, or judgemental. He bit his bottom lip, trying to muster the words he could use to explain what it was that was going on between him and the doctor without assumptions being made about the extent of his own feelings. “He…” A pause. “I think he…” His face was growing more heated, and Sniper hated that just the idea alone was making him flounder and fluster like this. “I think he’s got a crush on me.”

Engineer said nothing for a few heavy seconds, and then. “Ohhh…” A long, drawn out sound of a man coming to a realization that should have been obvious. “See. That makes a lot of sense when you put it that way.” He tapped his fingers, rhythmically, not looking at Sniper when he said. “And, er, how’d you feel about that-?”

“I don’t feel anythin’ about it. I just wish he’d quit starin’.”

That explained why Sniper had been so scarce, lately. Medic had unrequited romantic feelings, and the intensity of them was putting pressure on him. “You… talked to him about it?”

Sniper let out a small bark of laughter. After that last talk they’d had, that wasn’t going to be happening any time soon. “Nah. What am I meant to say? He already has my heart in a jar, what else would he be willin’ to add to his lil’ collection if I say I’m not interested?”

“He has your _what in a what now_?”

“Me heart. Not just mine, yours too. Everyone that got the uber-charge surgery had a transplant, remember?”

“I don’t remember. I insisted on bein’ out for it.” The fact he’d had to remind _a doctor_ that _anaesthesia_ was required for a heart transplant wasn’t worth dwelling on. Not when he let the fact that the heart contained in his ribcage wasn’t actually his own wash over him, and how he was only _now_ finding out about it. It was these thoughts that made it easier for him to understand where it was Sniper was coming from. “A-Anyways… good to know you’re doin’ alright. I think Scout was all for beatin’ his brains in since he was worried he experimented on you or somethin’.”

“… Scout knows?”

Engineer felt his stomach drop. _Whoops_. “Uh…”

“_Does everyone bloody know_?” Sniper looked mortified.

“N-no, no! I mean… well…” Engineer couldn’t lie. “The only ones who don’t know seem to be Soldier ‘n Demo, and they’re never aware of anythin’ going on.”

“Christ… people around the base are gossipin’. Bloody marvellous.” He rubbed his eyes, sliding his aviators up his head with a distressed grunt. “… Do they think we’re… y’know.”

“I don’t think so. Like I said, Scout seemed to think his lil’ obsession lately was because he wanted to experiment on ya. Harvest your organs.” Maybe that wasn’t too far off. “They ain’t sure what goes on in his head, I don’t think any of us ever will. No one seems to think you’re wantin’ to be a part of it.” He reached forward, and clutched the taller man's shoulder. “Ain’t no thing, though, Mick. Nothin’ for you to be embarrassed about. Y’can’t help who likes ya. I mean, hell, if that were the case, I’d be off outta ‘ere and startin’ up a relationship with_…” He paused, realizing where his thoughts had been headed and quickly corrected himself._ “Dolly Parton.”

Sniper’s lip gave a slight twitch at the corner at his comment. “Dolly Parton?”

_She’d been the first country singer who entered his head, and he did like her songs, admittedly. _“Uh. Yeah. Always been a lil’ sweet on her. I like blondes, what can I say?”

Seeming to be put at ease again, Sniper’s posture relaxed and he sighed, heavily. “I’m just… not used to it. The fact we’re both men, as well, don't matter to me but... I don't want it gettin' out…”

“I understand.” All too well, he was from the _South, for god’s sake_. That’s why Dell had bowed to societal pressure and married young, lived a lie and turned a blind eye when he'd suspected his wife wasn't exactly being faithful. Getting this job at Mann CO had been a blessing in disguise in that regard. _Now wasn’t the time to think about that, though._ “You don’t want people gettin’ the wrong idea. But, I’m sure it’ll pass.” Hopefully Medic would pick up on the signals that he wasn’t interested, and get bored. Dell recalled that had been what the doctor had done with Heavy at the very beginning, when it seemed the tank of a man wasn’t interested in mixing himself up in anything more than professional friendships. The whole base had known, just like this time around, Medic was flirtatious and wasn’t exactly subtle. But, it had gotten boring when he wasn’t getting the reaction he’d wanted, and he'd settled with staying as they were.

Dell had to admit that it might be slightly different in this case; Medic seemed to relish the fact he was making Sniper visibly uncomfortable and embarrassed, and that might spur him on. Perhaps this little talk would put Mick at ease, and he’d be able to tune out the attention being directed his way a little better.

“Thanks, Dell.” Sniper muttered.

Engine smiled. “No problem. See you around. Ya know where t'find me if you wanna talk." 

As he left Sniper’s little nest, he look a moment to close the door behind him, breathing in fresh air. A familiar scent filled his nostrils, acrid. The smell of smoke. At the sight of a couple of cigarette butts littering the ground, Dell grumbled. _Damn it, Spy. You’d better keep your mouth shut. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, The Sniper saving Medic the way he did was actually based off a very early memory of when I was a new TF2 player; except, running away completely alone, unprotected, a small baby Medmain who had no idea how the map worked, but instead of a Scout perusing me, I’m pretty sure it was a Spy. 
> 
> Thankfully, an angel was watching over me that day in the form of a Sniper who made quick work of him. I wish I’d had a chance to thank him; I didn’t know there was a key for that yet. Rip. You are fondly remembered to this day, mystery Sniper, and I have dedicated this chapter to you. 
> 
> Also, I didn’t intend for there to be a secondary ship in the background of this fanfic when I first started writing it… but I guess that’s happening now. Whoops. I’m not sure if it’s going to become a thing, or if I’ll keep it as a one sided affair, because I don’t control where this mess is veering off to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sure do love writing Sniper being angsty. Really, I can put a lot of myself in him; basically we share the same principle of "I want to be around people, but god I fucking hate people."
> 
> To those who have left comments on my fic already; thank you! You're one of my main inspirations. If you enjoy my work, I really do appreciate a few words to let me know your feedback and opinions on it.

After dinner, when he knew the doctor would be in his office finishing paperwork, Heavy took the opportunity to pay a visit. Heavy entered without vocal invitation as he knew he was always welcome, and the tired but pleased smile his friend had given him as he looked up from his notes was as warm as it ever was. They had made small talk, caught up with what was going on in each other's personal lives. Medic talked about his projects outside of work, and Heavy discussed his family. Then the topic had shifted to the events of the day. Whilst Heavy knew he didn’t have the finesse or the vocabulary to properly convey how he felt, it had turned out better than expected. Medic seemed wistful, guilty, almost, when Heavy confessed his concerns. This time, he'd been entirely willing to accept responsibility for the current lackluster performance of RED. 

“I know I have been… distracted.” He admitted, biting on his bottom lip, pensively. “I am well aware.”

“What is wrong, doktor? You can tell Heavy.”

Ludwig knew he _could_ tell Heavy anything without fear of ridicule, without worrying about scaring him away. Their friendship was strong enough to withstand anything.

The biggest indicator of that had been when Ludwig had attempted to ignite an intimate relationship with him, in the starting months of their contract. The attraction to this broad-shouldered, booming voiced bear of a man had been immediate, but as much as he’d tried to instigate something, give hints, even flat out ask, Heavy had not budged. Heavy had simply not been interested. The rejection had hurt, but he’d managed to stay afloat because despite this, something that could have very well changed the relationship they'd built up until this point, it didn’t make a damn bit of difference to Misha that he was attracted to him. His respect for the doctor hadn’t waned in the slightest. 

_“Doesn’t this make you uncomfortable?”_

_“Doktor has performed surgery on heart, with pet birds in ribcage. Not much can make Heavy uncomfortable after that.” _

“It’s the Sniper…” Medic said, his sentence ending on a gentle sigh as he smiled. “I never realized until recently... how charming he is.”

Heavy had suspected as much. He couldn’t quite see where his friend was coming from (a man who urinated in jars and lurked in the shadows like some kind of cryptid didn’t appeal to Misha’s personal tastes) but he’d take his word for it. There must have been something that he was missing to spark this sudden affection. “Doktor has crush on Sniper.” He said it as a statement, not a question.

“I suppose that’s what you could call it.” He pressed a hand to his face, still grinning. “I’ve been looking for reasons to seek him out. We spend so little time together… In fact, I think he’s been avoiding me. I keep trying to catch him when I know he won’t be able to get away.”

“You scare him.” Misha said, putting it bluntly. At Medic’s reproachful gaze, he continued. “You scare everyone on team, Ludwig. Man like Sniper is not used to…” Trying to find the correct word in English took him a few moments. “Intensity. Like this.”

Medic nodded, slowly. “You know, I think you may be right… I don’t know how else to be, though! _You_ know better than anyone how I am! I’m a passionate person.”

The large man couldn’t help a chuckle. “Heavy knows. That time you called me into your office wearing nothing but gloves-“

Medic tittered; from what he recalled, he'd also covered his privates with a blanket as he'd leisurely lay on his examination table but Misha hadn't seen that before he'd covered his eyes and left the room. “I do not beat around the bush!”

“You get straight to point! Always have!” After their laughter died down, Heavy’s expression turned somewhat serious. “You want… to become involved with Sniper, da?”

“I… would like that very much, yes.” _Or at least have the opportunity to properly ask._

“Then… You must give space.” He concluded. “Sniper will find out Doktor’s best parts… the not so scary parts. You must give him time to approach you. Like tiny bird. Bird will only take seeds from hands if you are calm, and quiet. If you try to chase skittish little bird, they will just fly away.” As if to illustrate this further, he placed a hand out on the desk nearby where Archimedes was sat. The small dove cocked its head to one side, rustled its feathers, and then hopped into Heavy’s giant palm, making himself at home.

Medic leant back in his seat, watching his dear friend gently scratch the back of the bird’s head. He let out a puff of air between his lips, enough to make the curl on his forehead flick upwards for a moment. “Oh, fine, you’ve convinced me.” He finally said, smirking. “It’s time that I stopped allowing this attraction to him distract me so much. I will focus on making my work a priority. I need to make up for the last few days.” 

“Very good!” Heavy cheered, pumping his free fist and then patting Medic heartily on the back. “Nice to see doctor back to old self!”

The thing Heavy was missing, though, was that underneath that façade Sniper liked to put on, of professional distance, of discomfort at his scrutiny, he knew passion was there, too. Medic could sniff it out; he knew the look of a man who repressed themselves far too much. Sure, he’d back off, make his intentions less obvious, but… he didn’t think a little push in the right direction every now and again would hurt.

Medic would simply play the waiting game.

* * *

The week extended on, the weather in the town of Teufort as intense and dry as ever, enough that the small pool of water underneath the bridge that extended to the two bases was beginning to dry up. Sniper didn’t much like being positioned here; the only real spots that he could use as a vantage point were so out in the open. Trying to be covert just wasn’t feasible, and it was ridiculous to attempt to fire a shot at anyone that might be making their way over to snag the intelligence when the other team’s Sniper was on his ass constantly. It would usually turn into a battle of wits between himself and his counterpart, the only moments of respite to actually focus on aiding the team being when the fellow sniper was down for the count in respawn.

With a grumble, Sniper retreated from the terrace, removing his hat and wiping sweat off his brow. Break time, he thought. Just a small one. He knew Engineer had water bottles in his dispenser, and that sounded like a ruddy good idea right about now. He hazarded a guess that the Texan would be down in the intel room, his dispenser down there with him.

The tell-tale beep of the sentry, as well as the clanging sound of a wrench confirmed his theory. However, before he took a step inside, he paused, hearing two voices conversing quietly, and wondering if he should wait a moment before cutting through.

“What’cha teleportin’ down here fer, huh?” He heard Dell say.

“Perhaps I just wanted to visit my favourite cowboy before I head out.” Sniper recognized that voice as Spy’s.

“_W-what_?” The sounds of tinkering stopped, clearly indicating what he said had thrown him a bit. Then, a spluttering laugh. “Aw, git’outta here with that talk, Spy. You want somethin’, don’tcha?”

“Must you always assume I have an ulterior motive?”

“You always _do _have an ulterior motive. Yer not one for small talk.”

Spy gave a soft laugh. “You cannot be fooled, can you? You know me so well, mon ami.” His tone changed slightly, more business-like. “You spoke with Sniper, yes?”

Sniper had been about to leave, but the sound of his name influenced him to linger there for a bit.

“I did.”

“And?”

“I said I wouldn’t go tellin’ you if he wanted to keep it to himself. If you really wanna know, ask him personally.”

“You know I won’t be doing such things… Do you at least feel progress was made?”

“I reckon’ so. I asked Heavy to talk to Medic, too. Not sure if he did or not.”

Sniper heard the flick of a lighter, and the long exhale Spy did whenever he smoked. “Well. The doctor seems to be back to focusing on work, either way. Unfortunately, we are currently at a stalemate, because both sides are in good form, and aren’t giving up so easily.”

“Gonna be a mighty long day, then.” Engineer gave a small laugh.

“Oui, that is why I thought I would keep you company.” Spy’s voice was slightly simpering, teasing him. “You must get so lonely down here all by yourself!”

“Nah. Pyro comes down here to check up on things. Checks to see if no good backstabbin’ snakes are lingerin’ about. A lot like somebody I know, actually.” The tone of voice Dell had was fond, though, despite his cutting words.

“So cruel. I took the time out of my busy day to see you!”

“Y’didn’t have’ta…” Engineer mumbled.

Sniper was getting a feeling akin to second-hand embarrassment. Somehow, he knew this wasn’t a moment he should be listening in on. Not wanting to be caught in the act, he made a beeline for the end of the corridor to hide out of sight.

“I suppose I shall depart.” Spy said, stubbing the cigarette out on the sentry, which earned him a scowl from the other man. “Since you will not share the information you have found out, I guess I’ll have to go about it the hard way.” There was a loud hiss, and The Spy quickly vanished.

“Whatever, Spy. I dunno why yer actin’ like you don’t know.” Engineer muttered.

“_Quoi_?” Spy’s disembodied voice asked.

“I know you were listenin’ to us that night.”

Dell heard the tap of footsteps behind him, and heard Spy uncloak. He turned, and saw Spy looking at him, questioningly. “What makes you say that?”

“The cigarette butts on the ground. Thought you could cover y’tracks better than that, though.” Engineer joked, but his brows furrowed underneath his goggles as Spy’s stare intensified.

“What time did you talk with the Sniper?”

“Uh… ‘bout… 8PM, I think?”

Spy shook his head. “_Non, non_. I was taking a phone call at that time. I spent time in the rec room after that, until I decided to retire early. Demoman and Scout can vouch for me. I assure you, Engineer, I was not listening in on your conversation last night.”

Engineer felt the pit of his stomach drop. “If… if those weren’t your cigarettes, then who-?” A pause, and then he straightened up, blanching. “Aw, _hell_.”

* * *

Sniper had retreated back up the stairs, deciding he’d wait to have his break in a moment or two, and he’d take the teleporter the next time so that he didn’t burst in on any awkward conversations. He wasn’t sure how he was meant to feel about the fact that Spy had been the one to insist Engineer speak with him; a part of him felt slightly angry. Dell had already revealed that nearly the entire team was aware of the situation, even if they didn’t know all the facts. But telling each other to check on him? Even if their intentions were well meaning, Sniper bristled at the idea that multiple people were trying to get in on his business like this.

_Wasn’t their bloody concern._ No one gave a damn about anyone’s business around here until it became gossip worthy.

He’d remained walking, lost in thought, and realized that he had taken the flight of stairs that led to the giant pipelines underneath the base. It was dank, and the florescent light was flickering somewhat due to lack of maintenance, but at least it was quiet, and cooler. Sniper felt the small pool of water slosh with each step, and he made his way to where the pipes formed a bend. The sounds of gunfire and muffled explosions could be heard from above.

Mick exhaled, deeply, removing his sunglasses, and rubbing his tired eyes with his thumb and pointer finger. This was ridiculous. This matter was causing him a ridiculous amount of unneeded stress. In the grand scheme of things, this whole affair was absolutely trivial. Sniper had been through more intense trials than this. He gave a nasally huff through his nose, an irritable laugh of sorts. Sniper had been on the brink of almost dying for real that day in the medical wing, had suffered bodily trauma, intense pain and blood loss, but the thing that had stuck with him and put him on edge every waking moment… was The Medic giving him that uncomfortable sort of attention?

_It wasn’t just that, though, was it? It was how he insinuated that you were a complete head-case. A psycho, someone who took great pleasure in killin’, like him. Got off to it, like him._

No. It wasn’t true. The things he said, they weren’t true. He’d told himself that over and over. Suddenly, the words that his father had told him over the phone the last time he’d allowed the chance to speak with him echoed in his mind.

“_Y’fall off the map for a year, and suddenly you phone up outta_ the blue _tellin’ me you’re some kinda crazed gunman now?”_

Mick wasn’t some raving lunatic with a lust for blood and watching heads roll. He wasn’t. Dad used to always encourage his hunting, even given him pointers and joined in. It was how they’d bonded. Why the hell was it such an issue if what was at the end of the scope was a person? It put food on the table; on their table. Or it had, until his parents, out of principle, disallowed it, and cut off all ties. Disowned him.

Sniper suddenly felt a pang of loneliness that he’d not allowed himself to feel in a while.

_“It’s alright.” The Medic in his memory whispered, reassuringly. “You can tell me all about it. I know how it is.”_

Mick had to get back out there; he couldn’t sulk down here all day. He couldn’t let his thoughts consume him. As he stood up, he heard the loud splashes of someone running down the pipe that made a pathway to the river outside, and he pulled out his rifle, aiming his scope where he estimated anyone darting around the corner would have their head up to.

“Fuck, _fuck, fuck_.” A voice hissed, almost inaudible over the splashing. Finally, the figure came in view, and Sniper couldn’t stop the reaction he had to seeing The RED Medic’s familiar visage zoomed right in close.

He jerked back, lowering his scope, almost bumping his back up against the wall. “Medic?”

Alarmed, Medic looked up, eyes wide, his white coat soaked in blood as he held an arm that was bleeding profusely. “Oh! I- I didn’t think anyone else would be down here.”

“Uh… you alright?” Sniper said, awkwardly, gesturing to his arm. “Looks bad.”

“Oh, _ja_. I will be fine, it looks a lot worse than it actually is.” He chuckled. “There should be a medkit somewhere here, yes?”

Sniper motioned to the small stockpile of bullets and medical supplies they kept in a corner for emergencies, watching as the other man made his way over to it and began pulling out the required tools. “Not to question your medical knowledge doc, but uh… that looks like it might need patchin’ up with the medi-gun.”

“No, no, it’s fine! Nothing a little gauze won’t see to!” He insisted without looking his way.

Quietly, Sniper stared at his back; he should be leaving, but something in him was preventing his feet from working. The sudden, unexpected arrival of the man he’d just been thinking about was somewhat alarming. Not that he hadn’t seen him in a while; Medic had taken an opportunity or two to visit him for brief moments during when he should be out with the rest of the team, but he’d been very chatty then. Now, a silence stretched on between them, somewhat awkward as he focused on his work.

“Erm…” Mick muttered. “Listen, I… I wanted to, uh. Talk to you about something.” Medic turned his head slightly to indicate he was listening before continuing to keep his back to him. “About the… the, um.” He sounded like a fool, right now, he knew it. “Y’know what. Don’t matter. I should probably--”

“Is this about how I’ve been acting as of late?” Medic asked, wrapping a bandage around his arm and ripping the end off with his teeth. The sight of it made Sniper press his lips together in a thin line.

“Yeah.” He grunted, looking away.

He heard a soft laugh from the other man, which made him tilt his gaze back. Medic now stood, smiling, sweetly, as sweetly as he had done the time they’d caught eyes at the breakfast table. “Is it not obvious? I’m very interested in you, Mick.”

Sniper had known this already, but hearing Medic confirm it made his pulse quicken, and suddenly he felt like running away again. But, he remained frozen, eyes wide, his stare like a deer in headlights now that his aviators were off. “You… y-yeah, I. I had a feelin’ you were, um…”

Tenderly, Medic reached a hand out, brushing Sniper’s cheek with the back of his gloved palm, which almost made him jump out of his skin. “Oh, just look at you. You are so nervous! You are not used to this kind of attention, are you, _Schatz_?”

“M… M-Medic, listen.” He took the doctor by the wrist, pulling the hand away from him, but not letting go. “Listen, mate. I… I really think you should…”

“Should what?” Medic blinked. Sniper realized the man had quite long eyelashes. He didn’t understand why this stuck out to him so much. He couldn’t tear away from his eyes, so warm, and so _blue_. “Don’t deny it any longer, Mick. You get so lonely, don’t you?” He leant in a bit, and he could smell the distinct scent of tobacco on his breath. “I am sure you’re as touched starved as I am, out here. No beautiful women around to keep you company on those long nights.” Sniper’s grip was slack, and Medic took the opportunity to wrap an arm around his waist, the other, positioned on his shoulder as he faced him. 

The distance between them was so sparse, Medic’s face was nearly a blur, and he felt the warmth of the man’s forehead against his own. He said nothing, the sound of his heart pounding in his ears as he realized how intense the urge to be touched was gripping at him, the contact of their foreheads alone being enough to make him yearn.

But then, a thought occurred to him.

_Medic didn’t smoke. _

That was when the ear-splitting snap of a crossbow echoed down the sewer, and The Medic gave a scream. Sniper reeled back as the other man fell to the ground, curled on the floor in pain, a large syringe lodged into his neck. It was releasing some sort of mysterious substance that made him convulse, and despite trying desperately to pull it out, it was already too deeply lodged in.

“_Sheisse_, I missed his head!”

Sniper looked down the pipe and his mouth fell open as he saw the steadily approaching figure of the _real_ RED Medic making his way towards them.

“Oh well.” He said, coldly, bending down and smiling right into the disguised Spy’s face with thinly veiled fury. “Your death will be much slower and painful this way.”

“Doc…” The Sniper blustered, coming to a lot of realizations at once as he stared, enough that it was making his head spin. Instead of saying anything pertaining to what had just occurred, he settled with “You… you have a ruddy good aim with that thing.”

Medic beamed, flushing with pride. “What a compliment coming from you!”

It was said with such sincerity that Sniper couldn’t help find it endearing. “You saved my bacon, there. I should’a known it was that bloody spook.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to be fooled, don’t you worry!” Medic looked down as the body below them twitched. Without any warning, he lifted a leg, and stomped on his clone’s face, letting out a loud, furious exclamation. Another stomp, and Sniper winced as he heard the crack of a nose being broken.

"I think he's had enough--" Sniper tried, but to no avail. 

The bonesaw came out. Medic’s blue eyes were aflame, pupils dilating. “Don’t worry, Mick, he cannot fight back. That toxin, as well as being poisonous, contains a muscle relaxant.” He cackled, and Sniper could hear the underlying rage beneath the mirth. “It won’t take long until respawn gives him his undeserved mercy, so I want to do as much as I possibly can before the chance is taken away!” The sight of the two of them, the brief glimpse he’d had of the man who was pretending to be him having his arms around him, butterfly knife in deft fingers positioned at his back as he took advantage of Sniper’s lowered guard had made him so unspeakably angry. He wanted to channel all of that, all of that rage and indignation and_ jealousy_ and make him suffer.

Medic was about to strike, when he felt an arm wrap around his neck; not painfully, but firmly. Sniper had grabbed him in a sort of chokehold, and was pulling him away from The Spy.

“Settle down, now.” Sniper muttered into his ear. Medic inhaled sharply, his entire body turning to jelly as he felt the breath against the shell of his ear. “You have places to be, doc. Y’have a job to do.”

Medic whined. His temper evaporated in milliseconds, replaced with a whole new mix of emotions entirely. There was residual adrenaline coursing through his system from his fit of rage, as well as the promise of being able to torture a man to death. Testing his luck, Medic squirmed, and Sniper reacted by tightening his hold on him, which is exactly what he’d wanted.

“No. No, no.” Sniper growled, making Medic exhale shakily. “Mate. Stop. We’re done here.”

“_Gott_, how I wish we weren’t.” Medic lamented.

"As much as I know y'wanna lay into him, we shouldn't waste anymore time." He paused, waited to see if the other man would continue to struggle, and then loosened his hold on him. "You good?"

"Oh, yes. I am excellent." Medic batted his eyelids, resting his cheek in a palm, playing up the coy body language to attempt to throw Sniper off, and embarrass him. The real Medic had those same lashes, and as he gave Sniper that silly, lovesick grin, his features almost looked cherubic. Such a contrast to his true nature. 

Well, he seemed to have calmed down. Rather quickly, actually. It made Sniper somewhat suspicious. Reaching over, he grabbed Medic by the wrist, planning on leading him without letting him out of his sight until he knew there wasn't a chance for him to go back and finish the job. "Let's go, then." 

Medic's eyebrows shot up. Feeling brave, he adjusted his fingers so that they were entwined with Sniper's, the latter not really seeming to notice. _They held hands so much already! _

On the ground, The Spy remained, praying death would come swiftly, wishing Sniper had just allowed The Medic to have his fun rather than having to listen and lay witness to_ that_. 

* * *

“Aye, lads! Let’s celebrate!” There was a thud as Demoman dropped a six pack of beer on the dining table, another one quickly joining it. “That victory of ours today is worthy of a few drinks, wouldn’t y’say so?”

“I think anything is worth a few drinks as far as you’re concerned.” Sniper said from his place at the table, earning a light punch on the arm from the man in question.

“Y’not wrong!” He said jovially, pulling a bottle opener out from a pocket so he could snap the cap off. Demo handed the bottle to Sniper, reaching for his own. “Ya have’ta admit, though, we did bloody marvellous today! It was a close one, weren’t it?”

“Hell yeah, it was!” Scout dove in, plucking a beer out without so much as a thank you. “Did you see me out there? Snagged that briefcase right outta their intel room, ran past all’a those BLUs before they even knew what hit’em! And boom, my cap won us the game. No need to thank me.” He clinked his bottle against Sniper’s, who simply exchanged a bemused smirk with the Demoman.

“Ooh, are we drinking tonight?” Sniper straightened up as he heard the familiar voice.

“Yeah. Y’might like this, doc, imported from Germany.”

“Oohoo! Excellent!” He gently placed a hand on Sniper’s shoulder as he reached in to take one. “I still need to take you to an Oktoberfest celebration when we’re next stationed in Europe, Tavish.”

“I’ll hold ya to that! Lemme know if you have any good recommendations for the next batch, though!” He slung an arm around Medic, and before Sniper could say another word, the two men were off to their own corner of the table to have an intense chat about beer.

Sniper simply sat back down, unsure what to make of the fact that Medic hadn’t so much as addressed him. He'd not had the chance to speak to the man at all after what had happened in the sewers. _Did Mick even want to bring it up? _

“Sniper?” He looked up, and saw Engineer making his way over. “You don’t look busy, mind helpin’ me get the table set?”

“Sure.” Sniper nodded, following behind him. The scent of beetroot was palpable as he made his way in, and he discovered Heavy seeing to a large pot of borscht, singing a song as he worked that Sniper didn’t understand the words to. His stomach growled, loudly, which caught Heavy’s attention. It seemed the Russian was in a very good mood after their time on the battlefield today, and he laughed. “Little man is hungry for Heavy’s cooking!”

Sniper gave a small nod, slightly abashed. “It _does _smell bloody good.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper meal, but he always looked forward to when the mercs would take the initiative to create recipes from home.

“Here ya go.” Engineer passed a beer towards Heavy. “Demo said tonight’s for celebratin’.”

“Thank you. Heavy could not agree more. Doktor and I were, er…” He paused, and then grinned when he remembered the right phrase. “On form, today, yes? Got through tiny BLU’s toys like it was nothing! Bullets shred through baby men’s skin! So much BLOOD.”

“Yeah, the two’a you were a force to be reckoned with out there.” Dell took a sip of his beer. “Was a busy afternoon for me, too. Damn Scout kept tryin’ to rush in, duck behind a corner to pick at my sentry.” He shook his head, looking disappointed at his pitiful attempts. “Kid should learn not to bring a peashooter up against an actual weapon.” He mimed pumping a shotgun, which earnt another loud laugh from the giant. “The look on his stupid face…”

Sniper remained quiet, and although he’d initially been listening to what the two men were saying, his gaze was taken off of the eagerly chatting pair. He found himself staring towards where Medic and Demoman were sat. They were into their second beers already, and Demo still had the doctor in a halfway embrace. Medic’s expression was warm, giddy, and he was resting his head in the crook of the other man’s neck as he giggled at a joke the Scotsman had made. Something made Sniper’s stomach turn at the sight. He inhaled through his nose, and then snapped his eyes away from it.

“How’d you do today, Mick?” Engineer asked.

He almost missed the question. “Hm? What? … Oh. Uh. Did… did alright, I suppose.” His underwhelming reaction probably wasn’t what they were expecting, but Sniper didn’t want to talk too much about the day he’d had. He took a large gulp of his drink, hoping that he’d be able to relax once it hit his system.

“DINNER IS READY.” Heavy bellowed to grab the attention of anyone in the base that might not be in immediate earshot. Sniper followed behind Engineer, as he’d agreed to assist with setting the table.

“Oh hell yeah, I dunno what that is, but it smells fuckin’ good.” Scout made to reach a finger in, but it was quickly slapped away by Heavy.

“Is borscht, Scout. And is very hot. You will burn finger.”

“Borshed?” Scout repeated, butchering the pronunciation.

“Misha made dinner?” Medic sat up. “How wonderful! What a rare treat!”

Heavy flapped a hand, almost looking embarrassed, and then set about spooning out servings for every member of the team. Only a few of them joined those who remained at the table. Pyro made a habit of eating alone in his room, taking a bowl with a thumbs up directed at Heavy before making a hasty retreat. Spy came down a little while after, inspecting the spread, judging whether or not the meal would be worth consumption; he caught The Heavy’s eye, who was glaring at him as if daring to make a snide comment. Clearly, Spy either knew better than to insult him, or he legitimately liked the look of what was being served up for dinner, taking his share with some bread. “A home cooked meal is a nice change from the usual rations. _Merci_, Heavy.”

Approval from _Spy_? It seemed everyone in the base was in a fantastic mood tonight.

Sniper wished he could share their sentiments. All he was feeling was anxious, out of sorts. The urge to be alone again was getting too much. “I’m… gonna eat outside, I think.” He muttered, in earshot of the Engineer.

“You doin’ alright, Slim?”

_He was tired of people asking him things_. “Yeah. Yeah. Just… need a bit’a fresh air.”

* * *

The summer heat was still thick, despite night having fallen. Blowing on his bowl of borscht, Mick took a tentative sip, tutting a bit as the mixture burnt his tongue. However, despite scalding him, he continued to swallow it down, liking how the intense heat stung and filled him up. It was good; Heavy was a pretty decent chef. All he really knew how to do was make stuff on a grill, or over an open fire. Picking up on how to roast game or cook things on a barbeque didn't require quite the same finesse. 

Placing his dinner down next to him, he tilted his head up to gaze at the stars. The only sound was crickets, chirping away melodiously. That loneliness hit him once again as he thought about how those same stars had looked back home, in the enormous, expansive Outback. He thought about his parents. He thought about how he’d basically subscribed to being a loner for the rest of his days, because that’s all he knew how to be.

Mick thought of Medic.

He thought of Medic, and drank.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT; I've added quite a bit more filler, changed some things, and swapped a few people around so that what one character may have said previously is being said by someone different! The pacing of this chapter felt very off, too fast, too abrupt, really rushed and ugh. Perhaps I didn't do much but add needless fluff, but oh well. I feel a bit more content with it now.

Sniper made his way back inside to find that the kitchen and dining area were a lot quieter now. He took the time to clean his leftovers up before making his way to the rec room. The busy day the team had had was starting to take its toll, and the atmosphere had shifted from amicable excitement to sleepy contentment, in part because of the drinks. The turntable that sat in the corner with its small choice of records was currently playing some smooth jazz. Sniper liked jazz. It wasn’t something many people knew, but he could play the sax pretty decently; maybe one day he’d perform for the team, but he’d not had the chance to see if the rowdy town of Teufort offered anywhere that sold them.

Deciding listening to some music for a bit would be the perfect thing to do before turning in, Sniper sat, and as always, he observed. 

Scout and Soldier were looking through the young man's baseball cards; he seemed to be trying to explain (perhaps in vain) the significance of some of them, the words "limited edition" being thrown around a lot. After a few moments, Soldier tossed them away, scoffing, much to the ire of Scout who scooped them up and held them up to his chest, looking aghast. "Aw, c'mon, man! You're from the Midwest, ain'tcha? Baseball's popular up in Missouri!" 

Engineer was situated on the floor not too far from the table where he seemed to be making small adjustments to a mini sentry. There were blueprints, tools and small pieces of the deconstructed machine laid out in methodical patterns around his person. Despite this, he took the time to engage the others in conversation every now and again, especially when it seemed as though an argument might start up. 

"You know Soldier don't mean no offense, Scout." He said; Sniper admired the wealth of the Texan's patience, but he could tell he was starting to grow slightly weary of having to be the mediator to these manchildren constantly. 

"Yeah, he does." Scout said, grumpily, watching Soldier give him a smug look. "See, look at'im!"

"Not my fault your pansy cards are--!"

Sniper saw him Engineer give a short sigh, and if it weren't for the goggles, Sniper knew he'd be glaring daggers at the pair of them, irritated that he had to spell out lessons these men should have learnt years ago in adolescence. "Soldier." 

Soldier's smile faded, curling in on himself and looking very small, even compared to Engie, who was the shortest member on their team.

"Those cards mean a lot to Scout. Don't you think you should be a lil' bit nicer?" There was always something about Engineer's demeanor and tone that could get through to Jane, even when he was completely gone in terms of his unpredictable lucidity. In a way, he seemed to have an odd sort of authority over him. _Like a dad, almost._ Sniper thought.

"Uh... w-well." Jane stammered, looking sheepish. "You can't play poker with these cards! What's the point?!" 

On the other side of the room, Sniper heard the loud booming laugh of the Heavy, and his gaze wandered. At the table sat Medic, Heavy, and Spy, with Demoman leisurely lying on a couch that was situated near them. Demo and Spy were telling a story that had the large man and the doctor breathless from laughter. The box of beers was in the middle of them, and Sniper felt like getting another one, rising up and stretching before making his way over there wordlessly. 

The Scotsman slapped his hand against his leg, tears in his eyes. “What happened next, though! Ohhh, had me in stitches when ‘e saw the stickies. He just gave up! Threw ‘is ‘ands in the air, he did!” He straightened up, and imitated the action he’d described. “And then! And then before I could even blow the bastart’ up, in comes Spy!”

“That poor fool must not have been paying enough attention, ubering me like that.” He said, exhaling smoke out on a few chuckles. “Or perhaps he was simply desperate.”

“You put tiny man out of his misery, da?" Heavy asked, clearing his throat after he'd gotten his breath back. 

Spy smirked. “Surely you know me better than _that_.” He inhaled another drag, before continuing on. “I led him out of there, making him think he was safe and sound, that he’d narrowly avoided a brush with death.” His eyes glimmered as he described his next steps. “Then, once his back was turned for only the briefest of seconds _that_ is when I took my chance.”

“Not before lettin’ out a cheesy one liner, though, am I right?” Demoman piped up. 

“Mm… Yes.” Spy admitted.

“Oh, do tell us what you said!” Medic interjected, looking excited to hear it.

Before Spy could say anything, there was a loud squeaking noise. Sniper jumped when he realized he’d stepped on what looked to be a tiny pink unicorn toy (with a slightly melted face), and the rest of the table looked up, only just noticing he was stood there.

“Oh, there you are, Sniper." Engineer said, seeming to have placated Soldier and Scout for the moment. 

“Uh, hey, Truckie.” Sniper mumbled, giving Pyro an apologetic grin as he snatched the toy from under his foot with what he assumed was an indignant glare sent his way. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not at all, laddie!” Demoman called amicably. “Pull up a chair ‘n have another beer with us!”

He decided to forego his plan of listening to music in quiet silence to continue drinking into the night along with the others; it would probably help him sleep better, even if his hangover would likely punish him for such indulgences come morning. Sniper reached into the middle, picking a beer up. A bottle opener was pushed into view, and he flicked his eyes up to meet the gaze of the Medic, who was holding it out to him. The man gave a tipsy half smile, cheeks flushed from laughing, hair slightly tousled.

Sniper thanked him, quietly, opening the bottle and making sure he sat in a place where Medic wouldn’t be in his immediate eye line.

“Where was I?” The Spy asked; he wasn’t having beer, but had a glass of fancy whisky on the rocks from what Sniper assumed was his private liquor cabinet. No one was allowed to touch his stash (much to Demoman’s chagrin).

“The cheesy one liner." Medic said. "I want to hear it!"

"Of course." Spy gave a nod. "Let me see, the Medic had his back to me, and..." He paused, turning his head slightly to the figure on the floor nearby, which caught the attention of the others, who also began to stare at what Spy was watching.

Dell was twisting a wrench on a particularly stubborn bolt, and although his intention wasn't to interrupt, it seemed as though Spy didn't take kindly to the noise. After a few moments, he cleared his throat, which got Engineer's attention. At the sight of everyone staring, he flushed. "Uh, sorry about that, ya'll, shouldn't be a second."

“Must you do that right now?” Spy groused. Reaching over a long leg, Spy used the point of his shoe to flick Dell’s toolbox shut.

“Hey!” Engineer plucked his goggles off his eyes, looking at him sourly. “I have to get this contraption in workin' order before next Monday!”

“It is distracting me from my story.” 

Dell huffed, clearly not amused. “Fine, fine." He began to tidy up. "I can take a hint. I’ll set up downstairs if it’s such a bother.”

Spy’s smug expression softened, slightly, almost looking a little forlorn. “Well, _no_… that’s not quite what I meant."

“Engineer!" Medic piped in "Work hours are over, you should relax a bit. Doctor’s orders!”

“But, doc, I gotta get this-!” He began, cut off by the rowdy encouragements of Demo, Heavy and Medic, insisting that he should loosen up and have some more drinks with them. Engie’s face began stony, but as the cheering and whooping got a bit louder, the man couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his features. Eventually, he stood, resigning himself to his fate as the three drunken men began cheering, clapping and hollering as their friend sat down with them, next to Spy. “Don’t come cryin’ to me when ya’ll regret not havin’ a sentry set up!” Engineer caught Sniper's eyes, and motioned to the group. “Can you believe these goofballs?”

“Yeah. I can, actually.” Sniper said, with a thick laugh. “’Specially that one.” He motioned over to Demo, who blinked his working eye and clicked his tongue, pointing a finger gun his way. “Was that meant to be a wink?”

“Oh, bloody hell… I keep forgettin’ that don’t work with one eye.”

Sniper covered his mouth with a hand, his shoulders shaking as he tilted his head down.

“Are you laughin'?! Ye prick!" Demo looked on, reproachfully when his laughter intensified. "Oi, stop that, y’ruddy bastard!” Eventually, though, he couldn't help it, and also joined in, as did some of the others as they watched this exchange go down. “Y’laughin’ at a half blind man, over ‘ere! The hell is the matter with ye?”

Pulling off his aviators, Sniper took a deep breath. “Ohh… I’m sorry, mate, that was brilliant.”

"Bloody loony." Tavish retorted. 

Sniper couldn't help but catch Medic's eye again after he said that, who simply watched him with a twinkle in his eye. Not wanting to dwell, Sniper allowed a question that entered his mind divert the flow of conversation. “Hey, uh. Spook.”

Spy raised an eyebrow, almost looking surprised to be addressed by him of all people. “_Quoi?_”

“What’s it like?” At his questioning frown, he elaborated. “Y’know. Bein’ ubered.” It was something he’d always been curious about but had never had the opportunity to ask. 

Spy’s gaze flicked towards Medic as well, for the briefest of moments. “Wait… have you never…?”

Something about how shocked Spy sounded at this revelation made Sniper backpedal. _So much for taking the focus off of himself._ “Well, I mean… no, but I can’t be the only bloke here that hasn’t been…” He scanned around, catching the eyes of all the other men in the rec room (if they didn't have them obscured, anyway), but no one spoke up to confirm what he’d said. “Alright.” Sniper mumbled, shrinking down in his seat a bit. “No big deal…”

“S'alright, Sniper." Dell began, sensing Sniper’s awkwardness at suddenly being put on the spot. "I suppose since… yknow. You ain’t exactly in the thick of it much…” 

“W-well…!” Mick felt the need to defend himself, as he always did when his involvement in their work was questioned. “Neither are you! Yer usually set up near the intel, aint'cha?”

“I mean... depends where we're based, usually." Engineer drank, before continuing on. "There have been times where I switch tactics ‘n… yknow. Get on in there with that lil thing.” He motioned to the mini sentry that lay a few feet away. “Sometimes, it’s even just me and sawbones out there on the battlefield. That can lead into us needin’ to use the uber up to get on outta there in one piece.”

“Maybe you’d be ubered if you got out there for once, camper!” Came Soldier’s gruff voice from the other side of the room. “Thought you were Australian. Don’t you start wrestling crocodiles in kindergarten?”

Sniper’s jaw tightened. “My peers did, but I wasn’t— look, can we just forget I said anything? Don’t matter.” _Seriously, why did it feel like everyone always needed to be talking about his backstory? There were much more interesting lives led by the other mercenaries on the team, but their's weren't being studied with a fine toothed comb constantly. _

“Would you like to be?”

Sniper looked up. Medic was addressing him. He should probably say something, before the silence got awkward. “I mean… if the… occasion should arise where I need to be-?"

“I can make that happen for you, Mick!” He seemed incredibly eager at the prospect, leaning in a little closer, chin resting on steepled fingers, addressing him with an almost businesslike tone of voice. The lamp that shone over their heads was angled so that his glasses glimmed, throwing his face into a sinister shadow. The effect was rather daunting. “I would be very happy to let you experience it for yourself, and see how you respond to such a thing.”

Sniper gave a half-hearted chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, despite the concerned looks from everyone else in view. “Who knows, maybe I’ll react badly to it, knowin’ my luck.” 

“Perhaps you will..." Medic's grin could be heard in his voice. "But _that_ is for me to observe." Then, as if a switch had been flicked off, Medic went back to jovial, smiling ever so sweetly, and it was almost worse. "Ooh, this is so exciting!" He clasped his hands together. “To watch all of you experience the uber for the first time was fascinating! And you enjoyed it so much, didn’t you?” The Heavy nodded when Medic caught his eye.

“To answer your earlier question, Mick.” Spy continued, tapping him on the back of his hand to get his attention. “I suppose you could say it feels very… euphoric.”

“Feels like yer whole body’s buzzin!" Demoman supplied, the contents of his drink sloshing around as he lifted it up. "Like a REALLY good shot of whisky that hits ya in just the right way.” 

“Your whole cellular structure actually reforms for a period of eight seconds!” Engineer looked pleased to be able to explain the science behind it, even if perhaps not everyone there would get what he was talking about. “Your whole body, y’cells, bones, organs, everything becomes a material that’s impenetrable, harder than titanium or even diamond.”

“Bloody hell… how’d you get it to do that, doc?” Sniper questioned, actually somewhat impressed.

“Completely by accident! I’m not actually sure how it works!” He let out a chortle. “But if it is not broken, don’t fix it, _ja_?”

“Well, that's… reassuring.” Sniper muttered, grimacing, the sarcasm seeming to be lost on Medic. “How does turnin’ into… whatever it is that ya turn into feel at all good?”

“Well, from what I can tell, the experience would be _excruciating_ if it wasn’t for the mist that’s released from the medigun! Once the uber is charged, the painkilling effects intensify a thousand fold!” He, just like Engineer, looked excited to be able to explain all of this in depth to a captive audience. “Thus, you are fuelled with euphoria, as Spy said.”

“So.” Scout interjected. “Lemme get this straight. You’re sayin that when yer ubered… Y’get hard as a rock, and it feels really good?”

There was a snort, and Spy began coughing into his whisky, having taken a sip just as Scout had finished his sentence. This reaction got the rest of the team going in one way or another (save for Soldier, who seemed to have completely missed the joke).

“I suppose you could say that, yes!” Medic confirmed after his giggling fit had died down. “Sound like something you’d be interested in?” He waggled his eyebrows at Sniper, the latter of whom said nothing and ducked his head down, suddenly feeling hot in the face.

Spy’s face was also red; however, this may have been from attempting to suppress an undignified choking fit. Engineer thumped him on the back to help him breathe, but not without letting out a little quip to dig the knife in a bit more. “Looks like _somebody’s_ got a dirty mind.”

By now, Scout’s obnoxious cackling had soured Spy’s mood. He did not appreciate losing his composure like that, especially over a comment so juvenile. “Oh, _suce-moi_.” He grumbled, pressing the glass to his lips again with a frown.

“You’ll have to ask nicer than that, buddy.” Engineer said, before he could stop himself.

“Oh, really?” Spy queried, a bewildered smile on his face as he turned to look at Dell like he’d just had an incredible revelation. “_I’m_ the one with the dirty mind?”

Dell didn’t meet his gaze, but he could tell that the Spy was staring at him. Sniper could hear them, even if no one else seemed to, but he wasn't about to register that he had. In fact, when he caught the eye of the Demoman, the Scotsman was biting on his lips, eyes widening as if trying to supress himself from cracking up. 

“Well, I’m gonna tidy up this ‘ere girl right quick." Dell could tell he'd caused a scene with that slip of the tongue. "‘Scuse me a few seconds, fellers.” He ducked down, kneeling on the floor and picking up the pieces of his work haphazardly, dropping a couple of tools a few times.

"Allow me, Dell." Spy said, smoothly, making sure to stand as close as possible to the other man without it seeming obvious. 

"N-no!" Engineer gave a chuckle. He seemed to be trying to brush it off, but his burning face gave away far too much. "No, it's fine, I'm fine. I'll be back in a minute."

Spy watched him go. Looking down, the Frenchman noticed that he'd left a small screwdriver and a few odds and ends behind. Spy picked them up, and adjusted his tie. "I will be back shortly as well."

After a short silence, where the team pretended to not know what had just happened, Soldier snapped up with a loud gasp, causing everyone to look at him in alarm. “WAIT.” He barked. “I GET IT." Everyone was waiting for his verdict with bated breath, worried he was about to say what they had all hoped nobody would. "Scout made a joke about erections!”

Scout started cackling again, which was immediately followed by the entire team, unable to stop themselves now that Soldier had unintentionally blasted a figurative rocket through the tension.

"Nice catch, dummy!" Scout said patting the proud looking Jane on the back with a hand. "I mean, took ya, what, ten minutes? New record, I'd say!"

* * *

Exhaustion had hit them not too long after. Despite the fact that they were mercenaries in their prime of health and fitness, nearly all of them (save for Scout, and possibly Pyro) were men in their middle age or older that had worked a hard day and needed their rest.

Engineer hadn’t returned, despite him saying he would be back shortly. His absence seemed to have gone unnoticed by everyone else, and Mick had to wonder if Spy’s quick retreat after him was related. Pyro had turned in not long after, as well as Soldier, who had a strict military bedtime that he stuck to even on weekends. Demo had passed out on the couch, and Heavy had taken the time to help the man back to his room, something they’d learnt from past experience was probably the best decision. Leaving Demoman to roam around in a room they all used regularly when he got to the point of passing out didn’t bode well. Broken (or soiled) furniture could very easily be the result of it.

Then, he’d come back for Medic, who by now was slumped over the table and gently singing along to the record playing the jaunty Wayne Newton version of “Danke Shoen”. When Heavy heaved the doctor over his shoulder, he gave a bewildered hum, and then gave Sniper a wave goodbye, smiling at him with that dazed and affectionate grin. “_Danke schoen, my darling!_” He chimed. Sniper pretended not to notice.

Scout, however, had, and was very quick to comment on it. “Fuckin’ creep.”

“Shouldn’t you be off to bed, lad?” Sniper asked, not wanting to dwell on why that mean-spirited jab at Medic’s quirky behaviour irritated him somewhat.

“What are you, my Ma?” Scout said through a yawn. “Fine, I’m headin’ out, but not coz you told me to.” Once Scout was out of earshot (or so he thought), Sniper heard him mumble. “_Jackin’ off’s more fun than spending time with you old farts anyways._”

Sniper sometimes wished he hadn’t been graced with such good hearing. Trying to get those thoughts purged from his mind, he rose up, and changed the record back. Sniper stayed in the rec room, enjoying the quiet. He didn’t feel like making the trek outside to his van, so he sleepily sat in his chair, glasses and hat perched in his lap. The jazz that played on the turntable was turned down low, low enough so that it only reached his ears. It was clear he was on the verge of falling asleep, and that was alright with him in this current moment. The warm haze the four beers he’d had made him as lax as a cat by the fireplace, and for the first time, in a long time, anxiety and stress weren’t needling at him. It was… nice. The evening had turned out to be quite a pleasant experience, despite what had gone down hours prior.

Sniper was startled awake when he heard the sound of something in the kitchen clattering to the floor. The clock on the wall read two thirty, indicating about forty-five minutes had passed after he’d first settled in his chair. Now wide awake, he felt it would probably be a good idea to investigate the source of the disturbance. Cautiously, he approached the kitchen door, pushing it open quietly and poking his head inside.

“_Ach du lieber Himmel!_” Medic had his back to him, picking up the clutter, which consisted of broken shards of a crockery bowl he’d accidentally knocked off the side. He kept muttering words that Sniper only barely recognized from having lived in the same quarters as the older man for as long as he had. He quietly approached, and then, once he was close enough, he grabbed the man from behind, spun him around, and pinned him. Medic, who had been caught completely off guard, let out a gasp, and then a winded “_oof!_” once his back hit the wall. Confused, and a little dazed, he wriggled and writhed and attempted to push at Sniper’s face. “Let go! Let go of me! Help me! TEAM!”

“Medic_— doc_, it’s me!” Sniper hissed in a stage whisper, trying to get the man to calm down. The panicked response and the attempts to alert their colleagues indicated to Mick that this wasn’t a Spy, because a Spy wouldn’t want more witnesses.

“_S-Sniper_? What on earth are you doing?!” Medic was looking at him with bleary eyes, clearly still very intoxicated.

“Thought you were a Spy.”

“_Mein Gott_, no!” Medic said, attempting to laugh off the heart attack the other man had almost given him. “A Spy would not be so clumsy, _schatz_. You are so jumpy today, aren’t you?”

“I have every right to be!” Sniper retorted, indignantly. “After today--! I… wait, what did you call me?” He’d still hadn’t released his hold on the doctor, palms pressing him to the wall by his shoulders as he surveyed the German’s face with a suspicious snarl.

Medic gave a guilty smile. “Jumpy?”

“No. What was it you said—_schatz_?” A flicker in Sniper’s memory made him recall that was exactly what The BLU Spy had called him during their exchange down in the sewer. He bristled. Was it a coincidence? Or…

“Heh, forget I said anything, it was a simple slip of the tongue!” Medic's voice cracked, giving an airy, dazed sort of laugh that illustrated very well how out of it he was. 

“… How the hell do I know you ain’t a spy?” He growled, his fingernails digging into the other man’s skin.

“Mm… you can’t, can you?" There was a pause, and then, he looked right at Sniper, with sudden clarity that completely threw him. "… _Perhaps you should kill me, just to make sure?_” 

Sniper winced. It became clear to him in that moment that the man in front of him was who he said he was, because Spy wouldn’t say something so inflammatory, in case they were likely to act on it. It also wasn't the first time Medic had asked for something like that, and he felt, with how he'd been acting as of late, it wouldn't be the last. Sniper let out a frustrated growl and backed off. “Enough. Enough a’that.”

“What?” Medic asked, shifting back to an innocent, inquisitive smile. 

It drove Sniper to distraction; he felt as though he was being mocked. “Enough of—tryin’ to mess with me head like this!” His eyes burned with fury; all the emotions he’d kept bottled up since their first interaction in the medical wing had led to this outburst, but the tipping point was likely the beers. “What do you get out of this? Do you get off to it? I bet’cha do, you seem like the type of bloke that gets ‘is kicks from drivin’ people barmy!”

Medic continued to smile as Sniper rattled off, not deterred in the least bit by how furious he was. “I did not realize I had made you so angry…” Medic said, softly. When Mick looked up, he saw that sympathetic look in his eyes again, a hand pressed to his own cheek as he surveyed him with a furrowed brow, shaking his head. “That was not my intent. Oh _dear_…!”

However, there was something about his body language that made Mick feel as though he wasn’t genuinely sorry for what he’d done. It was too over the top, it felt staged. “What is it you want, mate?” Sniper asked him, almost imploringly. _Why him in particular? Why was he so interesting to The Medic?_

"I came down here to get a drink of water."

Sniper just stared at him, and just stayed frozen as the doctor casually made his way to the fridge.

"Didn’t realize you were still up as well." Medic stated, acting oblivious. "You should probably get some sleep soon, even if it is the weekend tomorrow.”

“T-that’s it, then?” Sniper finally spluttered, and his cheeks flushed when he heard the crack in his voice.

Medic looked back at him, puzzled, and sipped his water. “Yes? Did you need anything else?”

_No he didn’t. He really shouldn’t have needed more than that. He shouldn’t have needed confirmation or an explanation from him. Sniper could have rejected him at any time, and he should have already done so. But, that couldn’t have been all Medic had to say to him, now that they were finally completely alone. Not after all the flirting, the not so subtle hints, the following him into his small sniper nests to seek his company out. The words, the assurances that he knew Sniper better than anyone else truly could._

_It hit him again that Medic hadn’t been there for the exchange with the Spy. Medic wasn’t there for the significance that moment held. _

_Perhaps that was a good thing, though._

Suddenly feeling nauseous, Sniper shook his head. “… No.”

“Well, I will bid you farewell, then!” Medic chimed, and then left without a second’s hesitation.

Sniper ruffled a hand through his hair, turning his back to the door and covering his face as he let out a disgruntled sigh. Mick just felt like running, running out into the expansive desert where he would get lost and be totally alone. Be in his element where he felt in control again. Just like the Outback. Just like home. At the end of the corridor, Medic gave a knowing smirk. He could tell Sniper wanted more from him, now. He wasn’t stupid, he had picked up on Mick’s subtle changes in behaviour towards him, how much their dynamic had changed in just a few short days. _Misha’s advice was right on the mark, as it always was._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing the mercs just being a bunch of silly drunk friends together. I thought it’d be a nice bit of respite from the more serious themes happening in this fic, especially after the last chapter. I also had a lot of fun writing out Medic and Sniper’s interactions together at the end. My favourite trope is when the seemingly uninterested party of a potential pairing suddenly turns on a dime when the one pursuing them backs off a little bit.
> 
> Oh, Mick. You poor lonely gremlin of a man.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah-ho, look at that! Drama! Romantic drama, folks. Yeah, I didn't know TF2 was a soap opera either, but, look at that.
> 
> Hope you guys are alright with this chapter after having to wait a lil' bit again.
> 
> (PS. The next chapter will have to change this fic's rating to Explicit, so look forward to that!)

“Sniper. Snipes!”

Mick grumbled and turned his head away from the source of the voice, refusing to open his eyes because he knew that the daylight would bore into them. He’d been correct when he’d assumed his hangover would punish him come morning, and he was going to prolong the inevitable for as long as he was able to.

“Mick. Hey!” Scout hissed. “Wake up.”

“_The bloody_… hell d’you want?” He grunted huskily, batting an arm to get the little bugger to back off a bit.

“Listen, alright, you gotta see this. I dunno what the hell this is. I’m a little freaked out if I’m honest.”

Those words got his attention; not enough to spring into action, but to get him to sit up slightly from his place on the rec room couch. “What y’talking about?” His accent was thick, thicker than usual due to his grogginess.

“Please, just, c’mon! Nobody else is up yet!” He pulled at the marksman’s arm, strong enough to tug him out of his seat and get the man on shaky legs.

Weighing his options, he decided he’d follow and see what Scout was griping about, knowing that he wouldn’t leave him the hell alone if he tried to ignore his pleas. Allowing the young man to guide him, Mick rubbed at his eyes with his free hand and let out a yawn. The pair came to a stop, and Sniper squinted into the kitchen, trying to work out exactly what Scout’s deal was.

Once he saw it, Sniper woke up completely.

First of all, he registered the smell; something was being fried. It was sweet, with an underlying layer of slightly burnt batter wafting in the air. Pancakes? Waffles? That didn’t really matter, it was who was cooking them that got Mick to stare in disbelief.

_Spy_ stood over the pan, still in his bed-robe and slippers (and his balaclava, of course), adorning an apron and humming a cheerful tune to himself as he worked. Spy either had not noticed the other two men, or wasn’t paying them any mind. He was smiling. He looked happy. _Genuinely happy._

“Oh my god.” Sniper mumbled, aghast.

“Right?!” Scout yelped, finally gaining the attention of The Spy.

“Oh, good morning, gentlemen.” Spy said, sweet as cherry pie. “Would you care for some crepes?”

“You’ve finally snapped.” Sniper said. It was the only explanation. This was unheard of. Spy cooking breakfast? For the team? Without having to be asked or threatened (that he knew of)? “You’re gonna poison us, aren’t you?”

“_Y-yeah_, yeah that’s gotta be it!” Scout nodded. Sniper realized that he’d actually not let go of his hand yet, grasping on to it like a scared little kid. He took that moment to snatch it away with a grimace.

Spy, meanwhile, surveyed the pair with furrowed brows; despite their words, his grin hadn’t faded, and he actually gave a small chuckle. “_Non, non_, nothing like that! As much as I have fantasized about such things.”

“Then—you’re the BLU Spy! Yeah! C’mon, switch back already!” Scout lunged forward, and made to swat at Spy like he was a pesky mosquito. The man simply stepped back, lifting the pan up off the hob to prevent the Scout from knocking it over.

“Careful now.” Despite this normally getting an irritated response from Spy, he remained eerily patient with him. “If you do not want crepes, just have something else for breakfast, Scout. That shipment of your cereal should have arrived yesterday.”

“Well, yeah! But you could have poisoned those too!”

“_Mon dieu_, you are starting to sound like Soldier.”

“Someone say my name?” said the man in question. Despite the attire of the other mercs on weekends being pyjamas or casual clothes, Jane was, as usual, wearing his full uniform, despite it being a Saturday. (Sniper could say the same this time, though). “What’s that you’re cookin’ there, Spy? It smells good.” Before Scout could stop him, Soldier reached over to where a plate of crepes had already been set out, and bit the end off of one, holding it in his large fist like a hotdog. The other three watched him, closely, and then Scout jumped out of his skin when Jane let out a loud. “_OH, NO_.”

“W-what?! _What?!”_ Scout screeched. “Oh, god, he really did it! Spy! You bastard! You poisoned him!”

“I’ll say!” Soldier yelled. “This food is FRENCH, isn’t it?”

Spy nodded. “Yes, they are crepes, Jane. Crepes are something usually served for breakfast in my home country… of France.”

“Wait… so he’s not _actually_-?” Sniper began, but trailed off when Spy gave him a frown, as if he couldn’t believe Sniper actually thought him capable of such a thing. 

“You do not have to eat them, Soldier.” Spy said, as the man took another bite, almost absentmindedly.

“Uh…” Soldier hesitated, drawing the plate out of reach. “Yes I do. I must… uh. I must prevent more of this being force fed to… unwilling Americans, who…” The rest of his words were muffled as he stuffed more of it into his face, and he quickly scurried out, not wanting to be asked about it further.

“Well. Alright. Seems like it ain’t poisoned. Can I get in on some’a that, then, Spy?” Scout asked, his stomach giving a growl as he went to pick a plate up, not even waiting for a response before he did so.

“An apology would be nice.” He began, but out the Scout went before he’d even finished that sentence.

A moment later, the sound of an apology did come from outside the kitchen, but not directed at Spy. “Sorry, Engie! Didn’t see ya there!”

It was subtle, but the Frenchman seemed to perk up somewhat.

“Somethin’ smells mighty tasty.” The door creaked open, and in came Dell, dressed in a shirt and sweats, also wearing slippers. He also wasn’t wearing his usual helmet and goggles, quite a rare sight indeed, even when they were off duty. “Well now. Didn’t think I’d ever live to see you in the kitchen, Spy.”

Spy let out a soft laugh, and his entire demeanour seemed to soften. “I wanted to make you breakfast.” A pause, and then his eyes flicked towards Sniper. “Rather, all of us. I was inspired by Heavy’s initiative to start cooking homemade meals once in a while.”

“Even Jane’s partakin’, so you must’ve done something right.” Engineer headed to the coffee machine, letting out a yawn which he covered with his Gunslinger. The artificial limb gave some light beeps and whistles as the thin fingers curled into a fist. 

The crepes seemed about done, and Sniper took the chance to take a plate and try them. He had to admit, they were delicious; nothing one might expect from a gourmet restaurant, but that was to be expected when the ingredients were probably not the most fresh or high grade Mann Co’s money could buy. Spy had done a pretty decent job with what he’d been given. Spy removed the apron, and lit a cigarette, leaning against the fridge and just watching Engineer make coffee as they made quiet conversation. The two of them seemed to have tuned Sniper out completely. Mick was alright with that.

Then, Medic stepped in.

“Mornin’ Lud—oh, boy.” He heard Engineer say.

The doctor’s complexion was pallid, dark circles framing his sharp blue eyes. It seemed like today the entire team would have to watch their step lest they incurred his wrath. Mann Co tech didn't account for ailments like this, although not for lack of trying on the doctor's part. No one could work out why things like hangovers, the flu or common stomach sickness didn't get picked up by it, even though he and Dell had spent so much time trying to learn why bacterial incubation might persist where things like broken bones and punctured arteries would not. 

“I take it someone is rather hungover this morning?” Spy teased.

“Move.” Medic grunted to Spy, who did so immediately, almost looking skittish. Once he was out of the way, Medic pulled a bottle of water from out of the fridge, and with a crinkle, a pill palate filled with aspirin was placed on to the counter.

“Uh… coffee, doc?” Dell whispered, pointing to the jug that was starting to brew.

Medic side-eyed him, and gave him a stiff nod. “Make it strong.”

“Mind if I have some of that?” Sniper piped up.

“Oh, hey! Didn’t even see you there, Mick.” Engineer said, apologetically.

“Dunno if I should be impressed that I’m more elusive than Spy is today.” He joked.

Medic looked up once he’d taken his medicine. His eyes scanned over Sniper, the tired and grumpy expression not leaving his face for a second. “_Guten Morgen_… you are still in your uniform.”

“Oh, uh.” Sniper looked down at himself, not expecting Medic to have made that observation. “Yeah. I… I slept in it. Slept on the couch.”

“You look tired.”

“Bloody oath.” Sniper winced as his head gave a significant throb. The other three men looked at him with puzzled expressions. “I mean… yes.”

There was a crinkle, and Medic plucked an aspirin out of the plastic, taking Sniper’s hand in his and gently placing one into it. Spy raised an eyebrow. It took much convincing to get the doctor to act with any bedside manner even on a good day, so to have Sniper gain painkillers without even having to ask when he was in _this_ state was significant. _Unheard of, even._

“Oh… thanks, Medic.” Sniper murmured, giving him a bewildered smile.

“Sleep more, won’t you? Perhaps forego having any coffee so that you can get proper rest.” He then left, exiting with his own mug without another word.

Sniper watched him leave, giving a brief hum. The smile hadn't faded, and as he turned, and noticed Spy and Engineer staring. Downing the pills, Sniper gazed back. As the silence stretched on, he began to grow flustered, especially when Spy began smirking. “_What?_”

“Oh… nothin’…’” Engineer said, scratching the back of his neck and averting his eyes, determined not to catch Spy’s.

* * *

The Saturday went on sleepily, and once the men had eaten their share of crepes (the ones who had enough composure to haul themselves out of bed, that is), it was spent socializing or attending to their own quiet hobbies or daily routines.

Engie, who relaxed by working on his contraptions could be seen in the rec room for most of the day, tending to the mini sentry that he’d left unattended last night. Nine times out of ten, Sniper would walk past and see Spy at his side in some shape or form, whether that was actively talking to him, or being sat a short distance away, reading a magazine or enjoying a smoke break by the window.

It was obvious to Sniper what was going on.

Nothing had been brought up, and nothing would. All of them, even Scout, seemed to have enough sense that to pry on the private affairs of Spy, of all people, would be the worst mistake one could make.

The weekend trudged on, and Sniper found himself in the ironic position of surveying and silently judging the situation going on between the pair, much like everyone else in the base had done with him and Medic. It seemed their little situation wasn’t the most interesting drama happening on the base anymore. But, Engineer had been respectful about it, and Sniper would offer him the same courtesy. There wasn’t anything Sniper had to be concerned about.

Not until Monday rolled around, when the issue that everyone thought had been carefully kept under wraps was brought to the surface in an unforeseen manner.

* * *

“Spy’s sappin’ my sentry!”

Mick took a moment to keep his ears open without taking an eye off his scope to see if Engineer was handling the situation. He waited for the familiar sound of the sapper being knocked off its perch by a wrench.

_Boom. _

Seemed like he’d not quite made it in time. The sound of the sentry exploding echoed through the base, along with the noise of shrapnel being tossed everywhere from the force of it. Deeming it best to spy check, Sniper hoisted the rifle on to his back and pulled out his kukri. He came to a stop when he heard a dull thunk, accompanied by Engineer letting out a pained wail, collapsing on to the floor.

Sniper backed up against the wall, side-eying the door to his left as he continued to hear thud after thud after thud. That wasn’t the Spy, and it would be two on one if he were to rush in there alone.

“Jeremy!” Sniper heard his own voice from inside the base, but with the slightest tinge of a French accent. Mick realized that the BLU Spy had taken on his form. The very idea made his skin crawl. “Jeremy, that’s enough, he’s down, we can get going.”

“Fuck that! I want this asshole dead! The slow ‘n painful kinda dead!” The Scout used the dull end of his bat to slam it into Engineer’s abdomen, the latter of whom let out a winded cough, curling in on himself. “Yeah, that’s right. That’s for my Ma, you sack’a shit. I ain’t happy she’s dating your team’s Spy, but I was willin’ to put up with it! Then I learnt that he’s cheatin’ on her with YOU of all people.”

“Come on, we are vulnerable here; the REDs will hear us if you keep this up.”

The BLU Scout finally relented, bending down and spitting on the broken form of the Engineer as a final farewell. Once their footsteps grew faint, Sniper ran in to assess the damage done.

“Dell…” He murmured, kneeling down, trying to see if he was still lucid enough to speak to him. Engineer turned his head slightly to indicate he was listening. He gently placed a hand over his ribs, watching as Dell flinched, clearly indicating they were broken. “I don’t think respawn’s gonna catch this, mate. I’m gonna find Medic.”

It wouldn’t do to keep Dell here. The Scout might come back intending to do more damage, and from what he gathered, he wouldn’t allow him the courtesy of a quick death, either. He knelt down, hoisting up the stout form of the Texan so that he could carry him in a piggyback, trying to be careful not to jostle him too much as he made his way to the terrace. He wasn’t sure where the doctor would be at this moment and he had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t in a place where falling back to help a teammate at the base would be convenient. Still, Mick was driven by concern for his friend, and enraged at The Scout for putting him through this. He had the suspicion the RED Spy, elusive as he was, hadn’t been tracked down for a beating from the Bostonian, or he’d have been the one to take the brunt of his outburst. So, the little shit had done the next best thing, knowing Engineer could usually be found near the Intel. They killed each other for a living (ironically), it was their nine to five at this point, but when personal matters got involved, things could get exceedingly messy. It stopped being about clean and calculated stacks of kills. Otherwise Scout would have simply aimed his scattergun at the man’s head and called it a day.

Peering outside on to the bridge, Mick saw the enemy Sniper positioned on the opposite balcony, and ducked his head out of view before a headshot could send him on his own trip through respawn. Below, he could also see the figure of the BLU Pyro, blowing fire out of his flamethrower in deliberate patterns, obviously checking for their Spy.

“Bugger.” He muttered. That was a no go. He could try the sewers, but there was a decent chance there’d be a number of BLUs down there too, waiting to serve as backup for the Spy and Scout duo who he knew would be in their sights fairly soon once the intel had been grabbed. “Seen nothin’ but the doc these past few weeks, and then he’s never bloody here when I need him.” He heard Engineer chuckle softly. Sniper walked back, careful to make sure the coast was clear before ducking through to their spawn room. “Alright, Truckie, we’re staying put, we’ll have him come to us.” Once he was seated on the bench near the cubbies, Sniper pulled out a medkit, which he felt might assist with the pain.

Engineer quietly thanked him. “You can go if you want, I’ll be fine, here. Thought you’d wanna keep ‘n eye out there in case Medic magically appears outside.”

Mick nodded. “That’s… a good point, but I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck; Sniper wanted to do for Dell what his friend had done for him when he’d been facing problems. Although he wasn’t as well equipped to talk about emotional matters, Sniper was determined to break through that awkwardness and make sure his mate was doing okay. “I… uh, overheard what The Scout said…”

Engineer gave a pained sort of smile, lifting the goggles off his eyes, along with his cracked helmet, which had thankfully shielded his head from a skull fracture. “Well… if anybody would be understandin’ about this, I suppose it’d be you, Mick…”

A popping noise came from a short distance behind them. Spy adjusted his tie, dusted off some leftover ash particles that a trip through the system hadn’t cleaned from his neatly pressed suit, and made to walk past.

_Of all the people that could have stepped through those doors, Sniper thought._

“Gentlemen.” He said, nodding at the two. Then, he froze, his passive expression forming into a look of deep concern as he saw Engineer slumped in his seat, cracked helmet next to him. “Dell? What happened?”

“Got on the wrong side’a the BLU Scout’s bat.” Engineer’s tone was calm, but his expression didn’t have the familiar warmth Mick had seen from him the past few days. “If y’see Medic, would you let ‘im know I could use a medigun boost? Not enough damage to send me through respawn, y’see.”

“Of course, _mon ami_.” He said, reaching and placing a hand on his shoulder to give it a squeeze. There was a moment where Spy’s smile faltered. Dell wasn’t looking at him. Spy kept his hand placed there for a few moments longer, before withdrawing. “… I shall alert him if he has not already been sent your way.”

“Ta, Spook.” Sniper muttered, giving him a thumbs up as the man faded out of sight. The shutter door opened, and closed, and Mick was safe to assume they were alone once more.

“So.” Engineer said, without being prompted. “Yeah. Me and Spy.”

Sniper looked at him, removing his aviators and setting them down. 

“It’s not anything serious.” Sniper couldn’t tell if that was genuine, or if he was saying that just to save face. “Hell, I didn’t think it would lead to anything more after...” He trailed off. After clearing his throat, Dell kept on, uncharacteristically nervous. “I kinda regret it, knowin’ what I know now. I thought…” He bit his lip. “Well, I’m no better. I have a wife back home. Can’t judge Spy for keeping that information from me.”

They were silent for a little while, as Mick allowed time to process this information. With a great amount of effort and second guessing, he finally managed to come up with words that he could offer in reply to that. “… He… seems really fond of you, mate. Like… I dunno… it’s the way ‘e looks at’cha, I guess. If it’s any consolation.”

Engineer directed his gaze towards the floor, contemplative. Now that he could see his eyes, Sniper felt like he was almost looking at a completely different person. It was fascinating how much of The Engineer’s true nature was masqueraded behind those large goggles, and how much was revealed with them off. The man to him, and the rest of the REDs, had always been a pinnacle of patience, of depthless intelligence and sage advice, and up until now, been able to keep his emotions in check, his private life elusive, almost as elusive as Spy and Pyro’s were.

But, he was human. Flawed. All of them were.

_Sniper’s mind wandered back to Medic, as it had tended to, lately. He thought about how, just like Engineer, he’d had a wife, that was until he’d discovered that the BLU Demoman had been having an intimate relationship with her, finding out through the man telling him with unsuppressed glee as he dug the shattered bottle of scotch into his throat. _

_“Dominated! And I’ve been shaggin’ yer wife!”_

_Sniper had heard it. Heavy had heard it. Every mercenary, BLU and RED, had heard it. It was something most of the RED team hadn’t believed, figuring it was just empty words, a way to get under his skin. But later that evening, as night fell, the calm silence at the launch site of Dustbowl had been shattered; much like the receiver’s plastic case, as Medic had ended his phone call home by tossing it with all the strength he could muster. _

_No one had understood his ramblings, as he screeched in German a huge long string of expletives, with the words “BLU Demoman” peppered in once or twice. It had devolved into a tantrum as he kicked at nearby crates, tearing at his hair, wet hot tears pouring down his cheeks from unbridled fury, shock, humiliation. The base had kept a wide berth from him for days after, and he’d stayed locked up in the med-bay, only leaving to have meals and to do work, and even then he’d eat alone. After that… it was never brought up again. Medic pretended nothing had happened, and actually seemed happier than he’d been prior. _

_Sniper thought back to the day he’d been alone with him, after the BLU Demo had made short work of his sentry nest and left him with a large piece of shattered steel drum between his ribs. _

“How people can let things go so easily I will never understand! If that man, or anyone, were to put me through what you went through today, I would want them to experience the pain tenfold! A hundred fold!”

_That hadn’t been a hypothetical, his fascination with wanting to know what depraved acts of violence he’d enact on the Demoman had been very personal. _

“_You failed. The Enemy has captured our Intelligence.”_ The Administrator’s scornful voice uttered through the base’s speaker system, startling Mick out of his train of thought. A point for the BLUs, and it could very well be more if Engineer didn’t get himself patched up soon.

“You really should get out there.” Engineer said. “Think the team’ll need all the help they can get.”

Mick nodded. “I’ll be sure to put a bullet through that little pissant’s head for you, mate.”

Engineer smiled. “Heh, couldn’t ask for anything more.”

* * *

Even after being posted outside for twenty minutes or so, Mick couldn’t focus. He could tell he was distracted due to his worrying for Dell, and it was only by sheer luck that he managed to get a bullet through his counterpart’s head, having missed the shot a couple of times prior.

The familiar voice of their team’s Soldier caught his attention, leading the way with Heavy and Medic trailing behind. Relief at seeing the sight of them all washed over him. _Finally!_

“Fall back, fall back!” Soldier barked, his steel toed boots stomping on the creaky wooden bridge. “We need to regroup!” There were a fair amount of bullet holes on his upper torso, indicating that their group had narrowly missed a brush with the BLU Engineer’s sentry nest.

“We need ubercharge for sentry.” Sniper heard Heavy say to Soldier, the three of them coming to a slow walk as they stood in the small dusty courtyard in front of the RED base. The large man was out of breath. There was a loud whir as Heavy started up his mini-gun, but the only thing Sasha had to add to the conversation was a pattern of clicks. “And… ammo.”

Medic was sporting a wound in his arm that soaked the pristine off white sleeve of his coat. His posture was slack, and Sniper could tell heaving the medi-gun around was doing nothing to ease the pain. “We need to get patched up. I must tend to Engineer, too. I got word from Spy that he’s in a bad way.”

Mick decided it wouldn’t hurt to join them, if not for the sake of being able to check up on Dell again, and hear if any strategies would need to be spit balled to make up for the mistakes on their part. For a while, he stood positioned as a lookout, making sure that an ambush wasn’t being prepared whilst the rest of the men were having a short respite.

There was a boom, and the beep of a sticky launcher, and Sniper backed up to allow Tavish to jump up to his position. “Aye, I heard we’re regroupin’?”

“Yeah.” Mick nodded, deciding to follow him in.

When they entered inside, it was to find the tall and broad shouldered Soldier, now patched up with only a few scratches and stains in his uniform to speak of, towering over their Engineer, with Medic, Heavy and Pyro watching on in uncomfortable silence.

“How could you have let your guard down so easily, Engineer?!” Soldier snapped, leaning in his face and giving Dell the drill-sergeant treatment.

“It was two on one.” Engineer grumbled, and Sniper was happy to see that his injuries were being tended to by the red mist that escaped Medic’s gun. “Spook got the jump on me, ‘n Scout…” He flicked his gaze towards Sniper, who leant in the doorframe and watched this exchange go down, warily. “Left me in a bad way.”

“For god’s sake! You let two men who fight with a butter knife and a bat get past your sentry?! Are your toys just for show, Conagher?!” He gave the sentry a kick, and the beep it gave in response to the force shown almost sounded indignant.

“The man with the butter knife can also turn invisible, Soldier.” Medic interjected. “As well as being able to-!”

“Quiet, kraut!” Soldier shouted hoarsely. “I haven’t taken issue with YOUR performance today, but that can change.” It was shocking to Mick how differently Soldier could act around them when he was on the clock. If you compared him to the fellow who had shrunk skittishly at being chided by the man he was laying into at this moment, it was like night and day. Two different people; a lot of them became different people in the heat of battle, but Soldier had to be one of the worst cases. “This is about Engineer. I expected better of you. If we lose this war today, I will be pinning the blame on you _entirely_.” With that, he gave Engineer a harsh prod in the chest.

“That is enough, don’t you think?” The others looked up to see the figure of the Spy materializing into the room, followed behind by Scout, who had no doubt been given the heads up that a makeshift meeting of sorts had been called to order. “I am sure Engineer gets the picture, and continuing to rattle off like this is simply wasting time.”

“What happened?” Scout asked, looking between Soldier and Engine with a furrowed brow.

“I would like to know as well.” Spy said, not taking his eyes off of Dell, despite the Texan pointedly keeping his head turned away from him. “So it can possibly be avoided in future.”

“I told you already.” Engineer’s voice came out a little snappier than he probably intended it to, but Sniper understood why that was. “BLU Spy sapped the sentry, BLU Scout chased me down before I could get over there to deal with the sapper.”

“Why was he chasing _you_ though?” Medic questioned. “Surely his priority would have been the intelligence?”

Sniper knew Engineer would not be comfortable with answering. “Lads. That don’t matter. The important thing is that-!”

“Oh, can it, would you?” Soldier rounded on Sniper, clearly looking to vent his frustration at every person who interrupted. “Don’t try and have any input NOW, not when I see less of you on the battlefield than fancy pants over there, and he’s invisible most of the time!”

_The gloves were off, Mick had had enough of this. _“You talk a big game for a man who couldn’t even get enlisted in the bloody Boy Scouts, let alone the army.” Soldier went rigid. Sniper, however, wasn’t done. _Not by a long shot._ “Yeah, I’m not about to be told I’m bad at me job by a disgrace like you. The only ones you have any authority over are those raccoons you keep stowed away in the trash outside. Fittin’, really, I’d say.”

The fact that even Spy was at a loss for words was a sight to behold. What Sniper was spouting off was absolutely true, but no one had ever gone as far as to say it out loud. Mick himself couldn’t quite believe it, but his heart pumped with adrenaline, enough that, when he felt a fist make contact with his nose, he barely felt the pain from it, stumbling from the knockback with a mirthful cackle.

“JANE.” Demoman rushed in, holding him back as the furious Soldier struggled. His helmet had fallen off, and the gaze he gave Sniper as he remained completely silent was lacking clarity, looking through him rather than at him, with the intent to kill him for what he’d said.

“Oh, ‘ere we go!” Sniper cried out, voice a loud and husky growl, bestial. Sniper cracked his knuckles. He felt hot blood run down his lip, and stuck his tongue out to lick it off. “You wanna fight, do’ya?! I’ll bloody give y’one, cunt.”

“We fight BLUs, not same team!” Heavy interjected, leaning his massive brick wall of a body between the two of them to prevent any further injury.

“Demo, Heavy… go… go take Jane outta here, let him calm down.” Engineer let out a heavy sigh, goggles coming off so that he could rub his palms against his face. “He’s not gonna be quite with it for a lil’ while.”

“C’mon, lad.” Sniper heard Demo mutter to Jane, who had finally slumped and become unresponsive once Mick was out of his immediate eyeline. “_Yer a good man, a good mercenary, y’know that. You do brilliant work out there…_”

“He got you bad, Snipes.” Scout made his way up to him. “That was fuckin’ badass as hell though. Y’said the shit I’ve been wantin’ to say to him for years, ‘n like, I totally could’a, but, yknow.” He gave a cocky chuckle. “Felt like he’d never recover if I was to lay my own sick burn on to--!”

“Scout.” Spy cut in. “Go with Pyro and patrol the base for any sign of approaching BLUs.” Spy was attempting to get the Bostonian away from the man who could probably snap again at any moment; they didn’t need another nose broken.

“Uh. Yeah. Alright. C’mon then, Pyro, let’s go crack some skulls.”

Once they were out of sight, Spy motioned to Medic, catching Sniper’s eye. “You might want to give that a look, doctor.”

“Is it bad?” Sniper approached him, and noticed the look Medic was giving him. It was the same look he’d given Mick that first time back in the med-bay all that time ago, that fascination, glee that was barely resisting escaping its thinly veiled surface. Sniper was fully aware that he’d gotten some sort of sick satisfaction from watching him lose his shit, but somehow, he didn’t mind it as much this time. In a strange sort of way, he was flattered by it, feeling like he’d won the fight despite being the only one to earn a broken nose.

“_Was_?” Medic asked. His bewildered reaction got a chuckle out of him and he noticed Medic’s cheeks go pink.

“Me nose. You were there when I got decked in the face.”

“Oh! Uh… No, easily fixable.”

There was something rather satisfying about watching Medic become flustered. Normally, Mick would have let it lie, but the thrill he’d gotten from the exchange with Soldier was making him want to see how much he could push it. “You alright there, doc?” Leaning against the nearby wall, he allowed his curled arm to support him as he held it above the Medic’s head, smirking down at him. “You still with us?” Being in the know that Medic had feelings for him was actually starting to be quite amusing, and, well… watching him squirm when he’d induced a similar reaction in Mick all this time was a sweet sort of revenge.

“Y-yes, yes! Of course!” Medic replied, almost huffily. “… I have never seen you lose your temper quite like that, Mick.”

“I think all of us are tired of him actin’ like he’s the boss.” Sniper rubbed his upper lip, sniffing, conscious of the fact that droplets of blood were still making their way down his face. “Dell didn’t deserve that on top of everything else.”

“Hm. I do admit, it can grate on my patience somewhat. He is not our commanding officer, no matter how much he might think he is.” There was a look in his eye that clearly illustrated to Sniper that he too had a few choice words for Soldier. Admittedly, Medic got the most of Jane’s scorn, because if a death occurred on his watch, nine times out of ten blaming Medic would be Soldier’s first instinct.

“Christ, I can feel it now.”

“Here, allow me.” There was a thunk, and the medi-gun whirred loudly, bathing Sniper in the red glowing vapour that escaped the end of the tube. “Better?”

“Yeah.” He gave a nod, cringing as he felt his nose click back into its proper position. “Thanks.”

“_Bitte_.” Medic replied, continuing to stare. This was the first time since last Friday he’d spoken with him, he now realized; when Mick had commented on not being able to get a hold of him, it hadn’t just been in reference to today. Ever since their small exchange in the kitchen, Ludwig had been locked up in his office, which wasn’t unheard of, but poignant, considering the circumstances. It felt like he’d been avoiding him.

“Was hard to get a hold of ya, today.” He admitted. “You’ve been hangin’ about like a joey in its mum’s pouch for the past week or so. You been hidin’ from me?”

The corners of Medic’s mouth stretched slightly. “_Nein_.”

So, his assumption was correct, then. Mick grinned, his canines poking out from beneath his top lip as he gave a soft laugh.

“_Gott_… your teeth.” He heard Ludwig whisper, softly.

“My… teeth?” That threw him a little bit, suddenly self-conscious. Was he commenting on their appearance in a negative way? _Was there food in them?_

“Yes, you have such lovely pointed canines, Sniper.” Sniper flinched a little, suddenly feeling Medic pressing the pad of a thumb to his upper lip, pulling at it to get him to reveal the gum his top row protruded from. He pulled back, blood staining the pinkish latex of his rubber glove. Without even looking at it, he placed the thumb tip into his own mouth, a slightly wet click of his tongue being heard as he cleaned it off.

“You missed a spot.” Medic murmured.

Sniper swallowed, hard. There was a long, tense moment where they stared at one another in knowing silence. Mick licked his bottom lip, and Medic’s mouth curled at the corner, flashing him pearly white teeth. The look seemed almost challenging, and Sniper noted how dilated the man’s pupils were.

“Doc. Listen. I need to talk to you about- …”

“_Lay off, Spook! I told ya I’m fine_.”

Sniper and Medic had almost forgotten they weren’t alone right now, turning to face the figures of the Engineer and Spy, who had been discussing something in hushed tones through their entire exchange.

“But you seem angry with _me_.” Sniper noted that Spy sounded upset. “If I have offended you, tell me, _mon coeur_.”

“Don’t…don’t call me that, I swear-” Dell muttered, the rest of his sentence cut off as he traipsed back into the respawn room to allow him and Spy some privacy.

Medic let out a small snort. “Lovers quarrel?”

Mick said nothing, not wanting to let on that he was actually correct in that assumption.

“Anyway…” Ludwig turned back to him, seeming undeterred by that interruption. “What was it you were about to say-?”

“MEDIC.” Came the shrill voice of the Scout from downstairs.

Medic let out a tired groan. With an apologetic smile, he gave him a silent nod in farewell as Mick allowed him to leave. As his footsteps grew quiet, the marksman felt that perhaps it was for the best that they had parted ways for the time being. He had a lot of things he needed to think about, but that would have to wait. Work took priority at this current moment in time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HAPPENING, FELLAS. Also, happy one month anniversary to this fic, a great way to celebrate.
> 
> One more chapter, and we're done. This one was going to be the last, but it got ungodly long as it was. I already have the ending written out, so I PROMISE... chapter seven will be the last.
> 
> Safe for work version of this chapter can be read here; https://pyrovisiongoggles.tumblr.com/post/188376632706/picked-apart-and-come-undone-chapter-6-sfw
> 
> EDIT; Upon reading this after getting a proper night’s rest, I have become aware there are a few errors (missing words, spelling mistakes ect). I’ll fix those when I get an opportunity!

After the REDs had reloaded their weapon stocks and been patched up, the match resumed. With an uber charged up at the ready, everyone banded together, save for the usual suspects that remained behind (Engineer and Sniper), instigating a push that had thrown the uncoordinated BLU team for a loop, and sent the nine other mercenaries running for the hills. Whilst the glowing red silhouettes of Heavy and Medic came charging through the front doors, RED Scout had rushed in and out with the Intel during the confusion, skirting over the rooftop of the boardwalk bridge and slapping Mick’s hand in a hi-five as he passed by. Their Spy grabbing the next briefcase, and the pushback from the BLU team to take down their Engineer’s sentry setup left the teams at 2-2, a score they would have to settle tomorrow as the sun began to set after hours of a match where neither side was willing to give an inch.

Through the rest of the day, as he monotonously scoped in, and out, searched the battlefield for any heads cheekily poking out of the base, Sniper had mulled things over. Although he’d not come to any conclusions that would hold long term weight, in the short term, he knew he at least wanted to meet with Medic and talk. _Just talk,_ he told himself over and over, as he made his way down the corridor to the infirmary, unable to stave off the heat in his face as he thought about their earlier interaction.

He knocked, and as expected, didn’t get a response from Medic right away. When engrossed in his papers, or experiments, work took priority over any social calls. Mick had been on the verge of turning tail and bolting, only to hear a muffled voice from inside calling to him.

“The door is unlocked!” _Well, it’d be rude to up and leave now, wouldn’t it? _Sniper let himself in. Immediately, his nostrils were filled with the pungent scent of disinfectant, blood and powdered latex, the mix of clinical scents making his stomach turn. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, but seldom often did pleasant experiences come from visiting the doctor. Memories from last time were still fresh in his mind. Just being in the doorway caused him anxiety, on top of what he'd come to chat with him about. He had his back to Sniper, who said nothing and shut the door behind him. Mick could hear the sound of a pen scratching, so assumed he was making some last minute notes on something or other before it fell out of his head. “Just a moment.” 

There was a soft coo from a nearby window. The sight of Medic’s pet dove tilting his head and ruffling his feathers made Mick’s mouth quirk at the corner, and without a moment’s hesitation, he made his way over there, making his steps slow and careful as to not alarm him. 

“Hello.” Mick said. Archimedes tilted his head to the opposite side, his beady little eyes surveying the guest with rapt attention. Sniper tentatively reached a hand forward, allowing the dove to judge for himself whether the marksman could be trusted or not. Archimedes, being the sociable sort, hopped on to the back of the man’s palm, allowing Mick to raise the bird to eye level. “Look at you…! Pretty little thing, you are.” He used a finger to give the dove some scratches behind his head. “If I keep pettin’ you, will you promise to stop diving into me organs when I’m havin’ surgery?”

The bird gave a small coo in response, not seeming the least bit repentant.

Mick snickered. “Be glad yer right cute.”

“Oh. He _likes _you!” Sniper realized Medic had turned to face them. He felt a little abashed at being caught having a one sided conversation with a dove but Medic was smiling. “Are you a fan of birds, Sniper?”

“Uh… yeah.” He gave a curt nod. “Saw all sorts of creatures in me time in the Outback... but I’ve always liked birds a lot.”

“Have you ever owned one?”

“Nah. I’ve always wanted an owl as a pet, but me mum was right scared of ‘em. Had a bad experience with one when she went camping in Craven’s Peak with dad before I was even in the picture.” Medic listened, and the fact Sniper was gently petting Archimedes the entire time, almost absentmindedly, didn’t go unnoticed. The sight of him being so gentle and considerate with the dove meant a lot to him, more than Mick would probably ever truly know. “Yeah. Even those lil’ ones, Boobooks, they’re called, _tiny_ fluffy lil’ things they are; she wouldn’t have it." Snipers face seemed to light up talking about it, and it was one of the rare opportunities he'd seen Mick talk at length. "It was the talons which spooked ‘er, which I suppose is understandable, they’re bloomin’ sharp even on the little ones.” 

Medic wasn't about to interrupt. _Any excuse he could get to listen to that voice, he'd most certainly take it._ It was charming, the way the man spoke, the way his thick Australian accent ebbed and flowed and curved certain inflections into the words. 

Sniper trailed off after a few moments, realizing that he’d gone on a complete tangent, mistaking Medic's quiet interest for him trying to be polite. He cleared his throat, and gently set Archimedes down. “Er… sorry. Listen to me, ramblin’ about bloomin' owls of all things…”

“I _was_ listening! I am so curious to find out more.” Ludwig genuinely meant that, as well. “But I have a feeling you didn’t come here to talk about owls, right?”

Mick nodded. “Yeah. It’s about, uh.” He spun his hands in a vague gesture, attempting to find a way to phrase it in a way that sounded proper. “Well. First off, I feel like I should apologize for my outburst the other night.”

“Oh, that!” Medic chuckled. “I’d almost forgotten about it, actually.” He gave a shrug. “Water under the bridge, I am not angry or upset, if that’s all you’re worried about.”

Sniper frowned. “Well, that’s just it, that ain’t all I’m worried about, mate.” Sniper idly placed a hand on the surface Archimedes sat. He felt the pigeon nudging at him to encourage more attention, poking his head through his parted fingers as a sign to continue the scritches. Mick obliged. It calmed his nerves to do so, in fact. “I _feel_… like our relationship 'as changed a lot in a very short amount of time.”

“Oh?” Medic gave a curious little smile, and his expression didn’t betray the overwhelming sense of satisfaction he was feeling in this moment.

“Look, mate, don’t act coy.” Mick grumbled, grooves forming in his forehead as he frowned. “If you want something from me, just get it out in the open, please.” Sniper was starting to grow weary of this cat and mouse game they’d been playing.

Unfortunately for Sniper, Medic would not indulge his request to not act coy, because it was far too fun. “You will have to be more specific, Mick.”

Sniper’s pursed his lips a bit, trying not to begin laughing out of nervous frustration. 

Medic flashed a toothy grin, his expression shifting from interested to slightly sinister. “I won’t know what you want unless you tell me.”

Walking from the table, Sniper placed his hand on Medic’s shoulder. He leant forward, his sunglasses sliding down his nose. Medic had been aware of Sniper’s heterochromatic eyes for a while, since his first ever visit to his infirmary on induction day all that time ago. They were normally hard to notice when they were washed out by those yellowed lenses so much. Now, they were directed on him, flicking from side to side to grasp his true intentions. One green, one blue. _Piercing, yet so unsure_.

“If you wanna shag me.” He began, his voice deepening. “Just tell me.”

Medic’s smile faltered. “…_Shag_ you?”

Sniper had not expected such a confused response. He felt the pit of his stomach drop, doubts clouding his head as he wondered if maybe all this time, he HAD gotten the wrong impression and had just humiliated himself.

“What does that mean?” Medic wasn’t being coy now, genuinely asking as he’d never heard that term before. That’s when it occurred to him; Ludwig wasn’t native to Australia, was he? Mick began to laugh, covering his mouth with a hand to try and suppress it. His amusement gained a slightly irritated response from Medic, who’s curved eyebrows knotted together as he started to go a bit red in the face as well. “What's so funny?”

“It’s... it’s Aussie slang for…” Sniper gave a cough, trying to compose himself. “Havin’ sex. Fucking. If you want to_ fuck_ me, Lud, just tell me, please.”

“Yes. I would like that, in fact.” The good doctor responded without even a moment’s hesitation, which caused Sniper to cease laughing immediately, probably the intended result.

“Oh, uh. Blimey.” Sniper mumbled, putting his hands in his pants pockets to avoid nervously fidgeting. “_Didn’t expect you to actually_…”

“What say you?” Medic pushed his own spectacles up the bridge of his nose. 

He didn’t think they’d get this far. A part of him had almost expected Medic to deny it, but who was he kidding? The man wasn’t one to mask things due to some silly societal expectations. If he could talk at length about his bloodlust and exploits in malpractice, then of course he’d be completely truthful about this. Medic did as Medic wanted, and those who tried to prevent it usually had their vital organs on ice before they could even debate their grievous error.

_But what did Sniper want?_

Not even weeks ago, the very idea of it would have perturbed him, even disgusted him, because of who they were to one another. Medic took a little too much pleasure in making the men he was supposed to be caring for uncomfortable, and oftentimes, fearful. The man had no place being a doctor; he was a sadist, a psychopath, a chaotic and unpredictable force of nature that couldn’t be contained, oft leaving destruction in its path of both enemies and friends, alike. But, over a few short weeks, Sniper discovered there was a depth to him that the doctor had allowed him to peer into and see. He’d discovered that in contrast to the image Medic liked to put out, there was more. Much more. He would survey the strange sort of childish excitement and enthusiasm in all that he did, which could be equal parts unnerving and... _endearing_. He would see it when he talked about his experiments, when joking with the others, when he sang along to records in the rec room and hooted with laughter like an owl. When he’d told him in no uncertain terms that no matter what sort of demons Sniper kept suppressed with all his strength that it was okay that they were there.

He _knew_.

_He had them too._

He’d grown strangely fond of the man, as a colleague, then as an odd sort of friend, and then... this. Whatever this new feeling was. However, the glaringly obvious fact that they had very opposing ideals when it came to their lines of work acted as a blockade. A deterrent. Sniper was still holding on to the idea that he wasn’t crazy like everyone in his life liked to tell him that he was. Was he overthinking things? Really, none of that had to be considered if they were to just… shag, did it? Morals be damned if he could get that itch to be scratched. 

It was a rationalization Sniper had found himself recalling repeatedly as of late, during his nights alone in his camper where he had no one else to distract him from his mind wandering to Medic. _Medic, of all people. __God, it had been so long since he’d been intimate with anyone. _

Why was he thinking about this so much? Why did he care about the long term, or what getting his dick wet inside Doctor Frankenstein might say about his character? An opportunity was being thrust out to him on a silver platter. Medic wanted to satisfy him, and had made that fact glaringly apparent. These days, he didn't have the energy to pursue someone actively, not that he'd ever had that much drive to. Why bother trying to score at a bar or romance someone when he could just rub one out to a fantasy alone in his van and call it a night? Just him, and his own thoughts, his own presence, not having to make the effort to make sure someone else got their own end of the bargain.

Medic was outside his usual type, but was, admittedly, attractive. Handsome, actually. Conventionally so. He was older, yes, but in the sort of dignified way that not everyone could maintain as they aged. His physique was well taken care of, as well as his hygiene and grooming. For all the depraved and vile things that went on in his lab, he kept his own person very clean and well cut. In contrast, Sniper was rail thin, slouched, gained wrinkles from too much sun exposure in his late twenties, with a thinning hairline on top of that. He didn’t cut his nails, often stank of urine due to his supply of Jarate and sometimes went days without a proper bath, combing his hair, or changing his clothes. But he did take good care of his teeth… something that Medic had said he liked a lot... 

It was... nice, really. Being wanted. Having aspects that he didn't think twice about pointed out to him with such... affection, and admiration. 

"Sniper?"

He then realized that the silence between them had stretched on for an ungodly amount of time.

“_Uh_.” Mick said.

Medic blinked, waiting patiently for an answer.

“Well.” Mick said.

And Medic waited, linking his hands behind his back, his expression passive.

“That’s…” Mick began, once more. He closed a fist, and pressed it to his mouth, staring down at the ground as he willed his mind to stop going at the rate of molasses. Ludwig tilted his head to one side, mimicking Archimedes in such a distinct fashion that Sniper almost started laughing again. He could look very sweet and demure, shift his expression into a smile that someone who didn’t know his true nature might see and peg him as someone’s kindly grandfather. Medic had no children that he knew of. Except his doves. Archimedes then hopped on to Sniper’s shoulder, startling the life out of him.

_Misha’s allegory about this man being a tiny, skittish little bird came to mind._

“You… can have some time to think about it, if you like.”

“Y-yeah, yeah, I might—I might, just do that. Yeah.” Sniper was so relieved to have been given an out, but also rather furious at himself for running away when he’d intended for this to be sorted out. “Uh. Rain check. I’m.” He pointed at the door with a finger. “Sorry to have bothered you, Ludwig, I’ll… see meself out.”

“Before you go,” Medic continued, causing Sniper to come to a sharp stop and turn to face him. “No hard feelings will come from this if you say no. I can handle rejection, _schatz_.”

Sniper nodded a few times, and ducked out of his office, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Thirty seconds passed. Medic had put Archimedes back in his cage with all his brothers, fully intending to continue on with his work. He sighed, shook his head, and picked up his pen, trying to focus on anything but what had just happened.

The door opened. There stood Mick, panting like he’d run all the way back there in a frenzy.

“What does that mean?" He asked, making Medic blink confusedly. "_Schatz_. You never told me." 

Medic put down his pen, feeling his heart beating in his chest in a way it hadn’t done since he was a teenager. "It means... treasure. Something that is precious to you."

It was actually _sickening_ how sentimental and schmaltzy that answer was, and even worse... Sniper liked it. Disgust hit him, hating but also enjoying how..._ warm, and fuzzy_ he felt. Sniper wasn't and frankly never would be a _romantic._ Or he thought that he wasn't. _Perhaps he was just a lot more desperate for approval from another person than he thought_. “I thought about it." He said, quietly. "I... think. I might be interested in takin' you up on your offer. So-!"

His words were shortly cut off by Medic bridging the gap and dragging him inside by the collar, the door shutting with a thud. All bets were off, and Medic wasn’t going to let Mick leave again now that he’d finally coaxed him into a yes. He pushed Mick into his office chair, situated at a desk that faced the door, removing his glasses and placing them on its surface. Slightly bewildered, Sniper watched with bated breath as Medic crouched to his knees, removing his gloves and pocketing them in his lab coat. “Bloody hell, I didn’t think you meant _now_…_!_”

Medic paused, tilting to look up at him, two fingers poised on the zipper of his fly. “Forgive my haste, I have just wanted you for so long, Mick.” He brushed a hand through his hair, the small cowlick stubbornly sticking to his forehead as it always did.

The word _cute _echoed in his head as he noted that feature on him, and he blinked, bewilderedly, wondering where that had come from. Taking in a deep breath to ground himself, Sniper gave a small sound in the pit of his throat, almost a laugh but not quite. “C’mere.” He said, patting his lap.

Taking the hint, and almost looking surprised that he’d even offered, Medic got to his feet again, positioning himself delicately on Sniper’s thighs, sat so that his legs were draped over the side of the seat and an arm was supported on the chair’s tall back. Mick noted that he almost looked lost. Again, Mick thought_, cute._ Snaking an arm around Ludwig’s waist, his other hand grasped at his tie, pulling him down and catching the corner of his mouth in a small, chaste kiss to test the waters. Sniper was very, _very_ satisfied to see the man go red in the face.

“Y-you want to_ kiss_?” Medic asked, shakily.

“There’s usually kissin’ involved, right?”

“Not always. I was just going to settle with giving you a blowjob under my desk, to be honest.”

Sniper felt very awkward, and wondered if maybe he’d pushed things further than Ludwig had wanted them to go. It hadn’t seemed like such a big deal until the doctor had made it out to be. However, his discomfort was alleviated when he felt Medic gently sliding the sunglasses from his face, joining the other pair. Ludwig leant in, and kissed him again. It was slow, and they held it still, Sniper closing his eyes and just letting himself take the moment in. The warmth, the contact, the soft lips of another human being had been something he’d missed. Mick liked kissing, and now he thought harder about it, perhaps that was the biggest indicator he was actually a romantic at heart. The kiss didn’t stay like this for too long, though, as Ludwig opened his mouth to poke his tongue against the other man’s bottom lip, asking for access. Mick answered his request, parting them and feeling Ludwig’s shoulders rise in a sigh as they deepened it. The seat they were in gave a small creak, and Mick now had both arms around him, feeling the man dig fingers into the fabric of his red t-shirt.

Medic moaned, a soft sound, a high pitched keen that illustrated his desperation for physical contact with him. The pace of Sniper’s breathing began to quicken, unable to ignore how the noise had sent an intense spike of arousal through his body. Mick moved a hand to his hip bone, fingers digging into it, and Ludwig pulled back to regain much needed oxygen.

“_Mick_…” He whispered, his voice cracking. 

A switch was flicked, and Mick had forgotten about any sort of hesitation, or anxieties he’d had earlier. A pure, primal instinct was gripping at him. “Get on the desk.” He said, softly. Medic obliged, and immediately Sniper was on his feet, returning to continue kissing him with a new found ferocity. He wrapped his arms around Sniper’s shoulders, back arching. Again, they parted, and Sniper buried his face into Medic’s neck. He felt a kiss being pressed to the sensitive skin there, eliciting a sharp gasp from the doctor. He could hear Mick’s deep breathing, and could feel his erection through his trousers. Medic felt his own, one that he’d been sporting since Sniper had returned back to his office. The desk creaked as the two men rutted against each other, Mick’s shirt riding up his body and exposing his tanned abdomen, dark hairs trailing down his stomach. It seemed like too much hassle to strip right now, neither of them wanted to break out of this moment. 

Finally, the friction bordered on chafing, and Ludwig pushed lightly at Sniper to indicate he should back up. He did so, watching with bated breath as Medic undid the fly of his trousers, pulling them, as well as his boxers, down to his ankles. Sniper drank in the sight, almost mesmerised. Getting the hint, Sniper mimicked him, although, he had no underwear to speak of, normally resorting to going commando at all times of the day. Medic licked his bottom lip. _There was something incredibly appealing about finding that out. _

Ludwig motioned him forward once more, and once he was close enough, took both him and Sniper in hand, and began to work the both of them at a steady pace. Sniper was never the vocal sort during sex, only really reaching his peak of volume during orgasm, but that was alright with Medic, who watched his eyes squeeze shut as he curled forward and pressed his forehead against his. 

“Fuck…” Sniper hissed through clenched teeth. His eyes fluttered open, seeing blue irises gazing back at him, hazily. He couldn’t help the next words tumbling out of his mouth. “You have gorgeous eyes.”

Medic halted his movements, eyebrows shooting up as he stared. “I do?”

Sniper gave a small grunt in confirmation, feeling self-conscious again. It was as if Medic didn’t know how to react when receiving compliments, like he didn’t get them much_… and as he entertained that thought, he realized that made a lot of sense. _Not wanting the mood to be lost, Sniper picked up where Ludwig had left off, giving the man’s cock a light squeeze and feeling pre-cum drip on to the back of his knuckles.

“_Mm_…_!_” Ludwig bleated, almost not expecting that. Sniper gave a low laugh, kissing him again and feeling intense satisfaction when he melted at his touch. By now, the sounds Medic made were increasing in both volume, and frequency, high pitched and desperate, muffled only by the kiss that they shared. The desk creaked again, thumping a bit against the floor with every rapid movement of their hips, and Ludwig was sure if Mick had not been supporting him he may have very well collapsed on to its surface.

Then, suddenly, Mick bit down on Ludwig's bottom lip, hard enough to break skin and draw blood. It had been a sporadic move on the marksman’s part, and the payoff was well worth it. Medic’s voice broke as he came, shuddering and digging fingers into Sniper’s back as he tasted blood and felt the satisfactory sting brought about by those sharp teeth he enjoyed so much. Sniper soon joined him, the view of Medic coming completely undone enough to spill him over the edge as well. Droplets of cum dotted the back of his hand, and Sniper knew that some of it had likely gotten on to the doctor’s pristine uniform and his own red shirt. He was fine with that. For a while, they held together, catching their breath, just looking at each other in muddled silence. It wasn’t exactly a blissful afterglow, but not terrible, by any means. Medic was beginning to realize how hot he was from being in his full uniform, sweat causing his cowlick to stick to his forehead. 

Then there was a loud knock at the door.

In one swift motion, the men leapt off the desk, Sniper trying to pull his pants up as he hopped away, only to trip and fall flat on his face. Meanwhile, Medic had taken the smart approach, and dove on to his office chair, as the desk in front of him obscured his lower half from view of the door.

“Medic, I need some’a that cream for me bum, it's--!” Demoman froze, staring at the form of Sniper on the ground, ass up and caught, quite literally, with his pants down. "Aye. Should I come back later?”

“I would recommend that, yes." Medic said, cooly, with all the finesse and clear-headedness of a man who had not just been engaged in sexual congress less than thirty seconds ago. “Sniper was just trying to escape from his annual prostate exam. He didn’t get too far.” 

Mick said nothing, remaining still, too humiliated to move from his spot on the infirmary floor.

“Oh. Is that today?” Demoman looked alarmed. “Uh, sorry, wrong room! I think I hear Dell callin’ for me, needed in the kitchen!” And off he ran, with Medic having no intention of following him.

After the door slammed shut, and Demo’s footsteps grew faint, Medic got to his feet, pulling his own trousers up and walking over to where Mick lay, rolled on to his back, an arm over his eyes as he let out a long, heavy sigh.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are ya?”

“_Nein._ I don’t think the rest of the base will, either, once Tavish spreads the word.” He offered a hand, which Mick eventually took, and then pulled his pants up, muttering a long string of curses as his face continued to stay beet red. “Oh, _schatz_, don’t be so embarrassed. _Du hast einen tollen Arsch!_” Sniper didn’t know exactly what he’d said, but he got the gist as Medic gave it a cheeky slap, giggling even as Mick gave him a thwack to the back of the head in response.

* * *

The doctor had been spot on when he said that rumours would spread quickly, because come the following morning, he couldn’t make eye contact with anyone in the base without a smirk or a snicker being sent his way. Sniper tried to ignore it as he sat in spawn with the eight other men, sharpening his kukri in what he hoped was a sinister manner to get the point across that he wasn’t in the mood for any of that today.

To his credit, Dell had been mature about the situation. The only look he’d given was a sympathetic smile, and he’d sat himself next to the marksman, glaring at those who dared to openly laugh at his predicament. “It’ll pass, Mick.” He muttered, obviously trying to help him feel better, but unfortunately he just felt worse about it being brought up at all. “They’ll get bored of it ‘n move on to somethin’ else.”

“It don’t bother me, really.” He said, giving a half-hearted shrug, even though internally he was tired of being the one everyone in base was talking about, whether that be over this or _previous_ rumours. 

“Was it really a prostate exam, though?” Came the smooth voice of the Spy from behind them, who obviously couldn’t resist digging the knife in deeper (a fitting allegory for the man, in fact). “I have my doubts.”

“Spook.” Engineer said with a warning tone.

“I am teasing.” He said, with a quiet titter. “But, it would not surprise me. I have seen the looks you give one another, lately.”

Sniper gritted his teeth. “You sorted out your lovers spat then?” He snapped, immediately feeling slightly guilty when he realized he’d thrown Engineer under the bus in confronting the issue like that. Spy’s smirk faded. His eyes flicked to Dell, saying nothing. Apart from that, his expression remained passive as he puffed out a cloud of cigarette smoke.

Dell gave a chuckle. “Yeah. We’re fine. Don’t you worry about us, Mick. Everything’s settled.”

Sniper resolve softened. He turned to face the Frenchman. “You treat him right, mate. He’s a good one. You don’t deserve ‘im, frankly.”

Spy’s lip curled into a small smile of his own. “You’re right. I don’t.”

“Since we’re bein’ frank.” Engineer interrupted, clearing his throat to try and mask that he’d gotten slightly emotional from what Spy had just said, “How… _are_ ya’ll doin’?” He lowered his voice. “_You ‘n Medic.” _

“Am I correct in my assumption that you two are…?” Spy raised both of his eyebrows.

_God, these two were like gossiping teenage girls, weren’t they?_ Or perhaps they were, in their own odd way, trying to relate to him, show him that there was a strange sort of solidarity, an understanding. Sniper turned his head to where Medic was stood, his back to the group of three men as he chatted with Heavy, animated and excitable as he always was pre-battle. “Surprised he’s not already spilled the beans, mate. He’s not the type to keep secrets.”

“I feel as though he respects you a little too much to divulge it to everyone.” Spy muttered. At Mick’s questioning frown, he continued. “I am serious. I saw it in him when he gave you that aspirin. You are in his good books. Consider yourself extremely lucky.”

“You could be in his good books if you weren’t such a bastard to everybody.” Dell commented, also being a man in Ludwig’s “good books”.

“You enjoy it, really.” Spy simpered. “My sarcastic sense of humour and debonair-”

“Nope.” Dell said flatly, cutting across him. “I tolerate it coz you have a pretty face, you snake.”

“Does he?” Sniper asked. “He’s not a crypt keeper under that mask from years of smoking, then?”

“Oh, he is.” Engineer said, gaining an open mouthed glare from the Spook. “He pulls the look off well, though.”

“I despise you both.” He grumbled, putting his cigarette out by stubbing it on Dell’s metallic arm, gaining a light backhand across the face with his free one.

Sniper was happy to see Engineer back to his old self, and he was also pleased to know Spy had finally found someone who could say what he liked to his face without fear of repercussion. It would do him good, Mick was sure; hopefully humble him a little bit. In a lot of ways, the two were the perfect foil for each other. He found his eyes drifting towards where Ludwig was stood, grinning and unaware he was being watched. Sniper didn’t realize that he’d began staring until a different voice that was neither Spy nor Engineer saying his name brought him back.

“Sniper.” The three of them looked up, surprised to see Soldier stood in front of him. His posture, as usual, was rigid, but this time his helmet was off and held under his shoulder. The entire room went silent, watching on with bated breath as they waited for what a lot of them feared would be unfinished business from yesterday. Mick said nothing, staying sat and surveying Jane calmly. He wasn’t about to let the man intimidate him, if that was his intention. “I would like to… apologize. For my actions yesterday.” Soldier said. Sniper hadn’t expected this; in fact, he’d mostly forgotten about it, his mind being very much elsewhere for the rest of the evening after visiting the infirmary. Jane continued. “Not just for breaking your nose, soldier, for also… dismissing the work you do out there. We’re all a member of this team for good reason, the best of the best in our line of work, you included.”

“… Thanks, Jane.” Sniper responded, genuinely grateful that he’d said that. “I know I went a bit far, as well-”

“No. It’s… true. What you said was true.” He ran a hand through his buzz cut. “I wasn’t… I’ve never actually been a…” He hesitated, a slightly pained expression on his face. It was difficult, sometimes, for the Soldier to gather his thoughts or speak eloquently about matters that addressed the true nature of what went on in the world around him instead of in his own delusions.

“It’s alright.” Sniper said, watching him closely, seeing that glazed look and knowing that he might not be with them again for a while should he allow those thoughts and memories to persist. “Really.”

Looking slightly relieved, Jane continued. “My point is; I’m not a superior officer here. None of us are superior officers in this war. We all have a place on this team, and we are all equal in our rank. Except for Scout.”

“Wh- HEY!” Scout piped up over the mixture of laughter from the other mercs.

“Well, you’re good at boostin’ morale, mate.” Sniper said, only half sarcastically. “Someone’s gotta.”

Jane beamed, looking like Sniper had just handed him a shiny silver medal all of his own. Then, he placed his helmet back on, turning from him and standing at attention in front of the rest of the team. “Alright, men! We have a score to settle with those BLU sons of bitches. They’re going to be putting their all into this, and I want to see just as much—no, hell to that, I want to see TRIPLE the effort they’re putting in.” As he spoke, he paced back and forth, shaking a fist and speaking with unbridled passion. “The score was left at a stalemate yesterday; one more point will declare the victor! And that had BETTER BE US.” He pointed towards Engineer. “Dell, explain the plan that the two of us discussed in depth yesterday.”

Rising to his feet, Dell obliged, his stance and demeanor little less serious than the other man, but still business-like. “Alright, boys. Here’s what we’re thinkin’…”

* * *

The nine men had charged out as a unit, following the steps provided in the plan laid out for their mission. It was simple enough in theory, and required making short work of the match, hoping that the rush would throw the BLU team for a loop and get them out of there in one piece with the briefcase in tow. Scout, of course, would make his way in first, charging over the roof of the bridge and into the basement hopefully before the BLU Engineer would have had time to head down and create a sentry nest. Soldier, Demo and Medic, would make their way in through the sewer below, an uber at the ready to handle anyone acting as a blockade to the base on the ground. Spy would swoop in and backstab anyone trying to sneak inside RED’s domain alone, and for any group ambushes, Heavy would be waiting near spawn, a dispenser set up to reload up on ammo, with Pyro also hanging back to act as support and Spy-check. Engineer would set up in the usual spot in the Intelligence room, and Sniper would remain perched and ready to take out the enemy Sniper, and anyone foolish enough to put their ugly mug right in line with his scope.

Mick knew that things would go tits up when the BLU Sniper, with lightning quick reflexes shot an arrow through their Scout’s skull. The scream and the sound of his corpse falling and crashing into the water below echoed through the courtyard.

“Stick to our plan, men!” Came Soldier’s voice from below as the trio of him, Medic and Demo fell into the water with a hearty splash. "SNIPER."

Alright, Mick knew the signal. The plan had been to alert Spy to make his way down to the intelligence room should Scout not make it there alone, but he hadn’t even gotten himself properly set up yet, and this gangly bastard across from him was already here and taking people out. The fwoosh of another arrow just missing his head was enough to momentarily deafen him.. _Bugger it all_, Sniper thought, thrusting a bullet into his rifle. Trying to remain calm and collected, he peered out, ducking his head in once or twice to make sure he wasn't poised and at the ready to take him out. 

_BANG. _

Mick fired, deeming it better to shoot in quick succession instead of waiting for a fully charged headshot. The first shot hit the BLU Sniper’s shoulder, which would definitely impact on his ability to use that bow. As the man distractedly inspected his wound, Mick fired again. One to the chest, and Sniper saw that the hit had painted the wall of the Builder’s League United’s factory with a fresh coat of blood. The BLU Sniper staggered, wheezed, and made his way out of view, whether to seek medical attention or collapse in a heap on the ground, Mick wasn’t sure. 

There was no time to wait around to see, though.

“Scout’s down!” Mick called. 

“Acknowledged!” Came Engineer’s voice, and Sniper knew he could rely on him to know Spy’s location and alert him quickly. About ten seconds later, the figure of the BLU Pyro ran out of the RED base, only to vanish into thin air, alerting Mick that their Spy was well on his way inside.

Then, out came the BLU Medic and Soldier, and it seemed as though the enemy’s doctor had the quick fix strapped to his back if the duo flying into the air was anything to go by.

“Shit!” Sniper grunted, knowing that he’d need to duck for cover because a missile was no use against Soldier that he knew had an overheal.

“Yeah, that’s right, hippie! Run like the scared little girl you are!” He heard the BLU Soldier exclaim, his heavy feet plodding against the wooden boards of the upper level.

Retreating into spawn, Sniper knew it would be best to wait until they were a safe enough distance away. The sound of the Engineer’s teleporter entrance being destroyed came from outside the door.

“Let’s go, cupcake!” The Soldier bellowed, and Sniper could tell that they would be headed down the long sloping corridor to the basement. Mick knew he’d have to act fast, and that his next steps would be very risky. Grabbing his own bow in lieu of his rifle, he waited a few moments, peering out to make sure they wouldn’t see him. Then, he bolted, knowing that the BLU Medic would be falling behind in case of any REDs waiting down there, and to be able to make a quick dash back up should he need to.

Sniper crept down, quietly, very quietly, until he heard murmuring.

“They have a sentry.” He recognized the German accent, struck by how much he sounded like Ludwig. “The Quick-Fix isn’t enough to penetrate the defences alone, Soldier. We should wait for backup.”

“It’s only a Level 2, it should be easy pickin’s.”

“Nein! Wait for backup, _dummkopf!_” Medic insisted. “You are always doing this, you are so pig headed!”

“What did you call me, kraut? Big headed?!”

Sniper took his chance, stepping into view of the pair for a split second to fire an arrow into the doctor’s head. He didn’t even have time to scream, the force of the shot catapulting his body into the wall opposite where Mick had been stood.

“I think your doc’s the one with the big head, mate! It looked bloody twelve feet tall!” Sniper called down as he began to scarper, the sound of the Soldier’s enraged scream echoing through the base. Thankfully, he knew that he could outrun the man fairly easily, and he became satisfied further the scream of anger turn to agony, the sound of the RED Pyro’s muffled giggles joining him. Alright, that was the BLU Soldier and Medic down for the count, that reassured him a bit. 

“Spy’s sappin’ my dispenser!” Dell cried out, nearly shoving past Sniper to try and get down and save it before it was far too late.

“Dell, let Heavy know to come up here!” He called. "I need backup here!". When he didn’t get a response, Mick frowned, wondering if Engineer hadn’t heard him. He hopped down, and craned his neck inside, seeing Engineer stood in front of the remains of his contraption.

“Darn.” He muttered, softly, turning and seeing Sniper stood there. “Didn’t get here in time.”

“You seen Heavy?” Sniper asked, glancing around and not seeing the Russian anywhere near where he was supposed to be.

“Can’t say I have, slick.” He admitted. “He told me he was gonna go to the base with Medic ‘n the others.”

“That wasn’t the plan though…” Sniper muttered, frowning. “Bloody bogen.” He turned, and that’s when he spotted some droplets of blood on the ground. He straightened up, and pulled out his kukri, the realization hitting him like a freight train. “SPY.”

The RED Engineer gave a taunting wave, and then vanished into thin air. The jarate the Sniper threw hit the wall behind the spot he'd just been in, but the figure’s silhouette remained obscured. If Heavy and Engineer were no longer around, it was safe to say that Spy had seen to both of them already.

Sniper was now in the base alone.

No, wait. _There was still one more person here._

“PYRO.” He called, charging back up to the respawn room and almost tripping up the stairs. “PYRO, YOU STILL ALIVE, MATE?”

“Hmmph!” Pyro’s voice echoed up the sloping corridor, his rubber boots squeaking with every quick step he took.

“The BLU Spy’s taken Engie and Heavy down." He relayed, once Pyro stood in front of him. "The two of us are the only ones left.”

Pyro nodded, and Mick stepped out of his way to allow the arsonist to begin spraying patterns of fire around the room they were stood in. Then, hopped down, making his way to the lower level to continue his excavation. In the meantime, Sniper swapped out for his Razorback as a precaution, as well as equipping his rifle. When he came back out, it was to see Pyro, shaking his head and giving a shrug.

"No sign of him?"

He shook his head. 

"Keep an eye on the intel, mate. I'll be outside and let you know if anything changes." Mick waved him off, and walked out to the terrace once more. Minutes passed in quiet silence, until signs of life made themselves known. A headshot took out the BLU Scout attempting to bolt across the roof. A headshot got the enemy Sniper once again, who had seen to his injuries but gained that trip through respawn he’d narrowly avoided anyway. No sign of the BLU Heavy or Demoman, who had likely deemed it best to fall back if their Medic was down for the count.

“Fucking Snipers.” Mick heard a Scout’s voice from behind him, and he balked when Mick held his sharpened blade up to his throat. “Woah, woah, easy there, Snipes. I just got outta respawn.” He watched as the man backed up, and saw respawn door open, something that it would do only when it sensed members of RED, even if Spy was disguised as one. “See?”

“Okay.” He said, with a nod. “Get goin’, then. Heavy ‘n Engie are down, and that there might be a Spy in the base. Let the others know.

“Oh, shit! I’m on it!” Scout hopped on the bridge roof, calling behind him. “See you back with the intel in ten minutes!”

Mick hoped he could hold the boy to that.

Not too long after Scout had vanished from view, out came Medic… alone. Covered in blood. Sniper’s chest tightened when he saw the man scrambling to get out of harm’s way, the BLU Pyro coming to a stop as he saw his prey leap into the water, the one place his flames would be of absolutely no use whatsoever. Mick fired a bullet, narrowly avoiding the masked head because the mute abomination had crouched at the very last moment to watch Ludwig swim away, almost looking downtrodden. The bullet had gotten his attention, though, and the Pyro retreated inside without a second’s hesitation. Mick hissed a curse through his teeth, but retreated downstairs to reach Medic before the enemy Spy could do so.

Mick found him, leaning against the metal railing of the sewer stairs as he heaved in heavy breaths. He was soaking from the dive into the water, hair and clothes sticking to his body as he shivered, likely from shock than cold. “Soldier and Demo…” He explained, straightening up and brushing flecks of hair off his forehead. “They’re dead. The BLU Demoman set up a crit boosted sticky trap at one of the entrances to the intelligence, and it got both of them instantly.”

“You managed to get out of there okay? You’re covered in blood…” Sniper asked, actually finding himself somewhat concerned for his wellbeing.

“Yes, I was lucky. I had to pop my uber to get out of there in one piece.” He motioned to his lab coat. “This is all that remains of our comrades, it’s not mine. The BLU Pyro pursued me up until the end, but the only thing he managed to singe were my coat tails.” He gave a small hoot of laughter, letting out a cough afterwards, from a mixture of the rush to flee and from inhaling a bit too much water. “Where is Heavy?”

“Dead.” Sniper said, flatly.

“Ah. Engineer?”

“Dead.” Sniper repeated.

“… That’s not good.” Medic furrowed his brow, his smile falling. “Oh, that is not good at all, our entire plan is falling apart.”

“BLU Spy might be in the base, too. Pyro’s keeping a lookout.”

“Alright.” He nodded. Flicking the switch of the medi-gun, he kept it trained on the other man to charge up the uber. “Lead the way, Mick.”

“Right you are. You should probably stay with Pyro at the intel.”

“Yes, that would be wise.” Medic agreed. "I have a feeling the sentry might be down already even if Pyro has managed to find the Spy.”

Thankfully, Pyro himself seemed to still be in one piece. He greeted Medic and Sniper as they met near the doors of respawn, giving the doctor a muffled thank you as he switched the healing stream to him.

“You get that Spy?” Sniper asked.

“Mhm!” Pyro held up a singed blue tie, which he put around his neck, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet as he admired his new accessory, which faded to a shade of red as soon as he’d attached it to his person.

“Well done!” Medic spoke to the other man like he was a child who had proudly shown him a crayon drawing. “Come with me, we’re going to keep an eye on the briefcase! Burn lots of BLUs that try and come down and take it, won’t that be fun?” Looking excited at the prospect, Pyro skipped away, off to the entrance of the basement.

Noticing Medic had hesitated, Sniper gave him a small nod as a farewell. “See you later.”

“Yes. I will see you later!” Ludwig turned, stopped, and then spun back around, leant forward, and gave Sniper a soft peck on the cheek. The unexpected gesture was so… tender and syrupy sweet and Sniper found himself struck dumb, watching the Medic head off and turn a corner, out of sight. Mick’s fingers went to his cheek, brushing against where he’d pressed his lips. _That man was such a living contradiction, equal parts brutal, sadistic but also... a complete softie when it came to him, it seemed. _

Sniper then realized that he was standing around like an idiot. He shook himself out of his daze and headed back to the terrace, trying to focus on battle rather than the funny fluttering feeling of butterflies in his belly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhh my god its done (but i'll likely edit it in post knowing me),, ENJOY

**“RED has taken the enemy intelligence.”**

Sniper’s head snapped up, the pace of his heart beginning to quicken after the announcement echoed through the two bases. He knew that if word had spread as to how much of the REDs were currently recuperating, it might influence the remaining BLUs to kick into high gear; not only to take their own intelligence back, but to storm towards RED and try and claim their briefcase in return.

Sniper waited for a period of about ten seconds, hoping that the speedy little bugger would make his way out of there before anyone else could. Then, he saw the BLU Demoman begin to charge out from the opposite side. Sniper narrowly missed the pipe bombs that had flown at him with great precision as the Scotsman soared through the air to meet him on his terrace at break neck speed.

“Oho, someone’s not a very happy camper!” Came the taunting voice of the Demo from outside as he once again ducked for cover into the respawn room. “Look at ye, y’wee girl, hidin’ away! Just like the last time, eh?” He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “This’ll be dead easy.” There was the repeated sound of loud pops, indicating that the man was positioning sticky bombs on to the exit of spawn. He knew he was stuck now. Anyone that tried to make their way outside would be blown to bloody pieces.

Sniper growled, frustrated at his helplessness. He would only have to hope that Demoman would make the rash decision to go down alone since the RED base was practically empty. A Medic and Pyro duo would be there to greet him and turn him into a chargrilled haggis. The seconds ticked by, probably less than half a minute but it felt like hours as he paced around like a caged animal, hoping for some sign of life from his teammates, some sort of backup, anything.

_Where the buggering hell was The Scout?!_

“PYRO. _NEIN_.”

Mick froze. That was undoubtedly their Medic, calling to their Pyro with a panicked tone in his voice. Mick heard the sound of the flamethrower, and then the beeping noise of the sticky bombs being detonated. The door to respawn rattled with a loud wet slap of what Sniper knew to be body parts and blood flying into it. His heart sank. The Demoman cackled.

It was over now, wasn’t it? They’d lost.

_Or had they?_

Mick looked up as he heard Medic give a short, sharp yelp. _The stickies hadn’t got him! He was still alive! _He then heard two pairs of footsteps growing ever fainter, and knew that he had to act fast. Sniper grabbed his bow once more, charging out of spawn.

“Get away from me!” He heard Medic shout. “I have uber. I will use it! Nothing good will come from chasing me!”

“Alright, if ye insist. Once that’s dried up, though, we’ll be down here to grab the intel ‘n win us the match.” Medic said nothing in response to that, knowing that the Demoman was right. “Y’might as well just give up now, mate. It’ll save us both some time.”

Sniper pulled an arrow out from his stock, creeping quietly. The BLU’s back was to him, and Medic’s eyes flicked to Sniper for the briefest of moments; thankfully, he knew not to give the game away, keeping that same look of distressed determination on his face as he kept the man talking.

“_Nein._ I actually think wasting your time sounds like the best course of action.”

Demo scoffed. “Well, alright. If that’s really what ye wanna do.” The Demo backed up two steps, unsheathing his Claidheamh Mòr from its scabbard.

“What are you going to do with that sword?” Medic asked, casually.

“What d’ye _normally _do with a sword?” Demoman retorted, mockingly.

“I can think of one thing.” Sniper muttered into the man’s ear. With one swift motion, he plunged an arrow into the Demoman’s back. “_Stab_, _stab, stab_.”

Immediately, the claymore dropped from the man’s hands with a clatter, as the arrow plunged from the back of his chest. Stunned, arms at his sides, the Demoman had been about to collapse forward, only to be drawn back by the force of Sniper tugging the arrow back out again. Flopping to the ground like a ragdoll, the Demo peered up at the pair of them, shock apparent on his single, dilated eye as he lay in a puddle of blood that began to spread across the tile, flowing out and staining his blue uniform a dark red.

Sniper crouched next to him, making sure he could see his face when he said his next words. “That was a mercy kill.” He tilted his head, voice deepening to a menacing snarl. “I won’t be so kind to ya next time.”

Demoman chuckled, choking a bit from the blood now filling his lungs. “Heh… victim o’me own hubris, I guess.” Then, the light faded from his eye, his head dropping to the side. It’d be a while until respawn let the dead man fade from sight completely, perhaps due to the system’s overuse, or for his shameful death to be on display a little bit longer, who knew?

Stepping over him, Sniper bridged the gap to meet the Medic, who smiled at him gratefully. “You saved me.”

“Owe ya for taking out that Spy the other day.” He said, smirking a bit. “You alright?”

“_Ja._ Unfortunately, Pyro got rather hasty and Demo got him with stickies as well. However.” He pulled the Medigun nozzle from its holster, and showed him how it vibrated and sparked in his hands. “The uber. I did not trigger it. He was right, if I were to waste it when there was a chance someone would be down here for me to use it on, that would end this match.”

Sniper gave a nod. “Okay. We could probably head up to spawn if we’re quick, wait for reinforcements.” He reached a hand out to take Ludwig’s without even thinking about it, about to lead him out of there, only for the man to tug him back.

“No.” He said. “Let them come to us, Mick.”

“But… mate. Who are you going to use it on?”

“Who else?” Medic chimed, looking amused at Sniper’s confusion as he trained the red stream of the healing vapour on to him. “You!”

Before Sniper had a chance to reply, likely to question whether Medic was totally out of his mind or not, a rocket whizzed down into the room, the force of the explosion causing Sniper and Medic to nearly topple over. Thankfully, they were just out of range for it to do any grievous bodily harm.

“SCREAMING EAGLES!” Came the voice of the BLU Soldier echoing down the hall.

“Shit--!” Sniper, still with his hand in Medic’s dragged him into the corridor that led to the Intel room. “That’s the BLU Soldier; he’ll have the Medic with him.”

“COME HERE, COWARDS.” Came the familiar accented bellow of the BLU Heavy. 

“The Heavy too… It’s likely they’ve surrounded us from both sides.” Ludwig whispered. “Sniper. We have no other option.”

Sniper knew he was right, hearing multiple sets of footsteps charging towards the only two exits. With no sentry, or backup to speak of… they’d have to act now.

Raising his bow, stretching it taught he stood, and aimed to where he thought he heard the Soldier and Medic rushing to.

_Steady, steady. Count backwards from ten._

He fired. As the arrow shot down the narrow hallway with a loud snap, time seemed to slow down. A burst of something white hot coursed through him, making him feel like every muscle, every cell, each bit of skin that coated his entire form was_ burning_. Once the sensation of being struck by lightning had hit him, a millisecond later it was gone, and that was when the overwhelming euphoria erupted in its stead. Sniper had never had so much clarity, and focus. He knew every shot fired would be a direct hit. Every move he made would work in perfect sync with the Medic, the mad genius, the maker of miracles who had graced him with such a beautiful and terrifying experience. Sniper was sure he had the power to take down an _entire herd_ of stampeding BLUs if he wanted to. It was like the high of getting a headshot amplified up to infinity.

The Soldier gave a screech of pain as the arrow penetrated his skull, cracking through the plastic of his helmet and leaving the headwear impaled to the corpse that collapsed into a heap. The Quick-Fix didn’t block the headshot, even as the waves of healing energy buzzed through the enemy Medic’s medi-gun. It was too late; the death had been instantaneous, there was no getting him back from it.

Meanwhile, The Heavy, who had revved up his minigun fired at the pair. The attempts were futile, and the man likely knew that as he stepped forward. Heavy was not perturbed, not willing to go down without some semblance of putting up a fight. The BLU Medic retreated, intending to join the Heavy’s side, hiding behind the wall of muscle to stay out of harm’s way best he could. Sniper charged forward, laughing loudly as the bullets bounced off of him like rain hitting a waterproof coat. Foregoing the Huntsman, he tossed it to the side, pulling his kukri out. The Heavy roared with fury, and Sniper matched it in kind, charging forward and ramming the serrated blade into the rotund stomach of the Russian. It was satisfying to watch it slice through him like a hot knife through butter.

Heavy screamed. Sniper yelled, and Medic, _his Medic_, Ludwig, stood watching this scene cackling, maniacally. It was music to his ears, hearing the man enjoying this moment with as much mirthful glee as he was. The blade flew out in one quick motion, and for good measure, Sniper kicked The Heavy forcefully, watching as the BLU Medic leapt back to avoid being crushed by him.

Knowing he was outmatched, the BLU Medic made a break for the exit, almost tripping over the corpse of the Demoman who had still not disappeared. Sniper wasn’t about to let the man escape so easily. He could feel the uber beginning to subside, but he didn’t care, still high from it. Mick charged, and leapt at the BLU, the older man letting out a terrified and pained cry as he was pinned to the ground face first.

Sniper sat on top of him. “Where do you think you’re goin’, nurse?”

The man’s face was stained from being smothered into the blood of his now deceased teammate. Disgusted and panicking, the BLU Medic writhed and beat a fist on the floor, sickly splashes being heard as he did so. Ludwig watched in awe, letting it happen, trembling from the aftershocks of the uber and the increasing excitement of watching Sniper letting himself get caught up in the carnage. 

“You wanna know how I’d kill ya, doc?” He asked, but he wasn’t talking to the BLU, staring directly back at Ludwig with a manic sort of smile. “You still want to know?”

Ludwig licked his lips. “Yes.”

“How about I show ya?”

“Let me GO.” The wriggling form of the enemy Medic shrieked, fear of the inevitable clearly etched into his voice.

Sniper held the blade to the back of the BLU’s neck. “Don’t struggle, darlin’.” He muttered, his pointed teeth protruding from his upper lip as he gave a raspy laugh. “I’ll make it quick.” He applied pressure, and skin began to give away, muscles and tendons ripping.

The BLU Medic screamed.

_Crunch. _

The wail came to an abrupt pause. Off came the enemy Medic’s head, now detached from the neck. The doctor’s glasses fell off his face as his skull fell down limply. With blood soaked hands, Sniper picked the head up by the soft black hair, nearly dropping it due to the slickness that coated his fingers. He cupped the cheeks in both hands, staring down at it. He looked so much like his Ludwig, eyes wide in terror, mouth slack from the scream that had echoed through the base.

“_Mick_…” Ludwig whispered. Mick looked up. His pristine lab coat was now soaked crimson. His glasses were crooked. Medic was gazing at him, not smiling, but neither did he look fearful or angry. To see the man who’d finally been the breaking point, the one to unlatch the tight locks kept over his emotions caused Sniper to drop the head, which rolled a few feet.

“Oh _god_.” Mick responded. His eyes flicked to the headless corpse, the Demoman, the Soldier impaled on the wall and the Heavy with intestines spilling out of his body, still twitching and still breathing. He began laughing. He laughed, and laughed, _and laughed_. Perhaps he’d utterly lost it, but he couldn’t stop. Was it out of nerves? Or was it because minutes ago he’d been wracked with the euphoria that was starting to be doused by shame and fear for losing complete control? “Bloody hell. It’s true. You were right. I _am_ absolutely barmy, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are!” Medic leapt at him, embracing him, laughing too, high pitched, unhinged and breathless. He span with him, Mick hearing their shoes splashing in the puddles of blood left behind by the recently deceased. “You are, and _it is beautiful!_”

Sniper let the man spin him, his manic laughter beginning to shift into something genuinely warm. Something about the embrace had made those fears creeping up on him completely subside. Once they had their moment, worried perhaps that they’d slip and fall due to the floor being slick with bodily fluids, they stood, silently staring at each other.

“I have wanted to see this for so long, Mick.” Medic said, gazing at him adoringly. “See you embrace this part of yourself. Thank you for allowing me that privilege.”

Sniper was overcome with an intense emotion that he couldn’t quite place until now. Now he knew what it was finally. In Medic, in Ludwig, he saw what he’d yearned for decades, someone who accepted him, flaws and all, and even _adored_ some of the worst aspects about him, too. His demons, his darkest desires. Where else would one find that? Who else would be so lucky to be given that space and even _encouragement_ to be the worst version of himself?

It was so liberating, to be free of this weight, even if it was just in this moment alone. Right now, there was no one else but them. No one else mattered, just the two of them in complete bliss.

Mick wasn’t sure who initiated it; perhaps the both of them, in tandem had reached in, knowing the moment was perfect and that they both wanted it more than anything. Surrounded by the corpses of the BLU Team, coated in their enemy’s blood and bones and bodily organs, they kissed. Mick wrapped his arms around the doctor’s waist, pulling him in, and Ludwig felt his feet leave the floor as he was lifted. Their glasses were bumping together, but neither of them paid that fact much mind. Nothing could ruin this moment.

That was, until they heard a yelp.

“Oh my GOD, _what the hell?!_” Pulling apart, they both turned to the source of the noise, slightly shocked they’d been interrupted. Their Scout had _finally_ made it to the base, the BLU briefcase on the floor from where Scout had dropped it. He was looking at the two of them in abject horror.

“I got ubered.” Sniper said simply.

He motioned between the pair of them with a finger, bright red in the face.

“You took your time getting here, Scout.” Medic remarked, still held aloft by Sniper, arms around his shoulders.

“Y’know what, no.” Scout held his hands up. “I’m not gonna ask. I’m just gonna let you two have your privacy.” He dipped into the respawn room with the briefcase, letting out a curse as he stumbled over the Heavy.

“Oh, how considerate.” Medic said, slightly sarcastically. “Anyway, he certainly does know how to ruin the mood—_ooh, Mick!_” He let out a hoot of laughter as Sniper buried his face into his neck. “W-wait, not there. _Hoo!_ I’m ticklish!”

“C’mon. The match is over now, luv. Let’s hit the showers.” And the silent implication was that they were going to do so together. As they entwined their fingers, the announcement echoed through the base.

**“RED TEAM WINS!”**

* * *

Ludwig had been all for escalating things a little further during their time in the showers, but Sniper knew they only had a short amount of time before the rest of the team would be down there with the same intention of cleaning up post battle.

Hair still damp, changed into freshly laundered casual attire, Sniper had decided to head up to respawn to greet Dell. “You don’t have to come with me, Lud.” Mick said. The doctor had been following him around like a duckling since the match had ended, not that he minded, though.

“I want to!” He insisted. “Erm… to meet with the team. See if there’s anything I need to tend to.” They reached the top of the stairs, and Medic perked up. “Hello, Engineer! Nice to see you back!”

Sniper looked up, only slightly surprised to see that he and Medic weren’t the only ones celebrating the victory with a kiss.

Dell pulled back from Spy, flustered at being caught out. “O-oh! Hi, fellas. I… er.” He cleared his throat. “J-just got outta respawn.”

“And I was just passing through as he did so.” Spy explained, with that genuinely happy look that was so rare on him. “I heard from Scout that you two held off the BLUs on your own.”

“I ubered the Sniper!” Medic practically sang, taking Mick’s hand as he almost vibrated with excited energy. “It was magical! I am sad you all missed it, you would have been so proud of him!”

“Medic…” Sniper mumbled, a little embarrassed. He made it sound like he’d finally achieved some sort of coming of age ritual after being a late bloomer all this time.

“Well, congratulations.” Spy said in a teasing tone of voice. “Should we throw Sniper a party to celebrate this achievement?”

“No.” Sniper said, sharply, because Medic had been about to answer for him and he was sure that he hadn’t picked up on Spy’s sarcasm.

“Well, either way, poppin’ that uber on Mick won us the game.” Engineer chipped in. “I’m sure they’ll be a celebration of sorts either way.”

“Uh! Are we ignorin’ the fact that I was the one who got the intel over here?” Scout walked in, also having changed into casual attire.

Spy sighed. “Yes, yes, lest we forget that they wouldn’t even have to have popped uber on Sniper if you had been able to stick to the plan and not get headshot right out of the gate.”

Scout puffed his chest out, looking indignant. “HEY. You think I WANTED to get fucking headshot, wise guy?!” He stomped forward, getting up in Spy’s face, who simply smiled, smug as always.

“Fellas.” Engineer said, smoothly, that calm tone as usual able to settle them down. “Let’s just remember the fact that we won. We had a few hiccups in the plan, sure, but it all worked out.”

Scout huffed, but then, he smirked. “You guys aren’t gonna believe this!” He said, pointing at Sniper and Medic.. “I go down to the intel room, right?”

“Lad.” Sniper said, warningly.

“These two chuckleheads, Snipes and Medic, they’re MAKING OUT in the intel room!” Scout caught Sniper’s eye for a brief moment during this, looking absolutely devious. He was clearly not happy about being shown up by the pair. “And there’s blood everywhere and just—it was crazy! I bet they’re off to do all kinds of gross gorey sex stuff in Medic’s lab!”

“How dare you!” Ludwig looked furious, face flushing with colour as he took a step forward, only to stop when Sniper shook his head.

Spy and Engineer turned to each other. Wordlessly, they looked back.

“You’re right, Scout. I cannot believe it.” Spy said, arms folded. “Stop making up such ridiculous stories.”

“W-what?!” Scout scoffed. “What—_no?!_ I ain’t kidding, that REALLY happened! I SAW IT.”

Engineer tried not to start laughing. “C’mon, son, I think you’ve had quite the long day out there in battle.” He wasn’t going to hide the truth from Scout forever, but in this current moment, it was amusing to wind the young man up.

“But--!” He floundered, turning to Mick and Ludwig. “Oh, come ON.”

Medic looked absolutely devious. “Sorry we stole your limelight, Scout. You should have gotten there quicker.” He took Mick’s hand, and smiled at him, any irritation or mirth in his gaze completely gone as they looked at one another. Scout watched them enter the respawn room, and then saw Spy placing a soft peck to the Engineer’s cheek before they headed out the room as well.

Scout just stood there, contemplating his entire life leading up to this moment. _Is everybody in this base shacking up or something?! _He thought, wondering if he’d been missing out all this time.

* * *

**One Month Later**

Eventually, news got around that Scout hadn’t been lying about seeing Sniper and Medic kissing in the respawn room. It became common knowledge to the team that the two of them were somewhat of an item, now. Engineer and Spy had kept their own relationship under wraps a little better, but eventually they’d both grown tired of not being allowed to be openly affectionate towards one another.

So, the two couples had decided to tell the rest of the team the news, and make it official. To their relief, most of the responses had either been positive, or neutral.

Heavy, who’d already known, had accepted it readily. Demoman could say the same, pleased that his mates had found someone, even if he thought Engineer and Sniper had questionable tastes. Pyro had responded by trying to hug them all, which Spy had narrowly avoided by vanishing out of sight, leaving the arsonist to chase him down in a very amusing display.

Scout and Soldier were slightly different matters.

At first, Scout had clearly not been sure what to make of the idea of four of his colleagues being “queers”, since there was significant stigma associated with that “lifestyle” back home. Once he’d gotten used to it, and even embraced it, there were times he’d ask questions, or talk the men’s ears off, insisting that he knew the best advice when it came to romance. Medic and Engineer almost found it endearing. Spy and Sniper couldn’t exactly say the same, but they could understand that his intentions were good, if slightly misguided. 

Soldier took a little longer, though. What the rest of the men had first perceived as refusal to accept that his friends were _homosexuals_ eventually turned out to be nothing more than being unable to wrap his head around the reality that men loving men like men loved women was at all possible.

Once he had, things went back to normal fairly quickly.

As for Medic and Sniper, the two men had continued work as normal. Since they weren’t often near one another on the battlefield, they would make the most of the small amount of time they were given when off duty, or when Medic wasn’t busy working in his “laboratory”, as Sniper teasingly called it. The both of them were grateful for the existence of Sniper’s van than they’d ever been previously. Nights would be spent in the calm solace of his camper, sometimes with Archimedes accompanying them there, since Medic knew Sniper loved birds too.

Mick had never felt closer to someone than with Ludwig. Not only did the man understand him in and out, but he found that he could vent about his problems trivial or not, and Medic would listen, ever patient. It helped to prevent him spiralling into negative thought patterns like he so regularly used to.

“Did the call with your father go well?”

“They never go well.” Sniper replied, the small bunk they shared in his camper giving a creak as he shifted a bit. It was barely enough room for two people normally, but comfortable for two men who didn’t mind being up close and personal to one another.

“Mm. I can tell you are down, _schatz_.”

“This one is the first one I’ve had since we lost touch… I don’t know what I was expecting to happen, but my expectations weren’t high.”

“I suppose in some ways I should consider myself lucky my parents never obligated me to stay in touch.” Medic said. “Although, they were never fond of using the telephone. My father especially was adverse to “modern technology”, you see.”

The corner of Sniper’s mouth quirked in a smile, still looking rather sad. “… He wants me to go back. Him and mum. Wants me to quit this lifestyle and work at their shop, forget I ever took this line of work.”

“What do they do?”

“They’re flower arrangers.” Sniper was unable to help the grin that formed as Medic snorted with laughter. “Yeah, can’t exactly imagine meself in that line of work.”

“Oh, oh…” Medic continued to giggle. “I don’t mean to laugh… it’s just, the image in my head is just too humorous.”

“Me in a little apron, tendin’ to some rhododendrons?” He appreciated the lightening mood.

“Little gloves and a sun hat. It’s rather adorable, actually.” Ludwig eventually settled, and he looked at Mick, seriously. “If I may… I would say that even though your parents are not prepared to accept your job so readily, the fact that they would be willing to take you in again even after knowing you’re an assassin shows that there is still much love for you.”

Mick felt a warmth rise in his chest. True or not, the fact Ludwig was attempting to reassure him was enough to help him feel at peace. “You have a point.”

“Perhaps, they will get past this. Perhaps not completely embrace it, because they sound like very… hm…” He hummed, trying to think of the correct word to use. _Conservative? _

“Normal?” Sniper quipped.

“Well, in a word, yes!” Medic laughed again. “We are quite outside the norm, aren’t we? That’s rather daunting to the average person.”

“Hopefully the world’ll come around.” Sniper remarked, putting an arm behind his head. “One day.”

“Until then.” Medic pressed a small kiss to his neck. “We have one another.”

“Yeah.” Sniper replied on a sigh of content. “That’ll do just fine for me.”

* * *

_All of your flaws and all of my flaws_  
_ Are laid out one by one_  
_ Look at the wonderful mess that we made_  
_ We pick ourselves undone._  
  
** \- Flaws (Bastille)**


End file.
